


Memory

by thelastpitchbender



Series: A Boy and His Sword [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, Humor, In which Link is a snarky kid with too many swords and 100 years worth of self-confidence issues, Maybe some Zelink or Mipha/Link if you squint really hard, Set during BotW, lots and lots of characters, with some memory interludes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-04-28 03:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14440911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastpitchbender/pseuds/thelastpitchbender
Summary: "Princess Zelda had told him that courage was something that could not be forgotten. But somehow, Link didn't think she meant the reckless, stupid bravery he showed when he ran into a bokoblin camp wearing nothing but his shorts."Link has regained the memories Zelda left for him. He's freed the Divine Beasts. He's just taking a quick break before he defeats Calamity Ganon, he swears. But when a familiar foe threatens his friends, he stops messing around and goes on his greatest adventure yet - trying to stop the shadowy threat infiltrating Hyrule while not setting anything on fire.(I know it says this is the second in a series, but you don't need to have read the first work to read this!)





	1. The Dying Art of Reckless, Stupid Courage

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This first chapter was originally posted on ff.net in March, and I'll be doing weekly updates here until I'm caught up to where I'm at there.
> 
> This story is set during BotW and follows canon for the most part, except where I've made a few minor changes, either to impose real world logic onto video game logic or just because I thought it worked with the story better. Feel free to point something out if you think it wasn't an intentional change, though, because I can certainly make mistakes.
> 
> Also, fun fact: this first chapter basically happened to me in-game. It was great.

The setting sun glared down on the badlands, casting a burning light against red stone. An eagle screamed from far up above.

This was awfully boring, Link reflected from where he was perched atop a crag of rock. Probably the worst area of the map yet. From his vantage point, he had a _lovely_ view of the Deplian Badlands to his right, the Shrouded Forest right in front of him, and the Great Hyrule Forest to his left.

Over in the badlands he could still see that silver-maned lynel that he’d frantically galloped past, praying to the Goddess all the while. So he couldn’t go that way, not unless he wanted to get eviscerated. Before escaping the lynel, he’d just come from the Shrouded Forest, and frankly, he had no desire to go back there. Killing a hinox in the dark and almost drowning in the swamp one time was enough excitement for him for the next few days, thank you very much. And he could go to the left, but there was that stupid moat thing around the forest, and he still hadn’t figured out how to make his way through the Lost Woods. The Koroks still wouldn’t tell him how, no matter how many times he namedropped Hestu. That left Death Mountain behind him as the final option, and the name didn’t exactly inspire hope.

Link groaned. This place was so _boring_ that it wasn’t even labeled on the map. It just looked like scribbles of rocks. Which wasn’t too far off of what the area actually looked like, if you added in some dead trees and monsters.

Link’s stomach suddenly gave a great grumble, and he regained his focus. Back to the task at hand. 

He pulled out the Sheikah Slate and studied the moblin encampment below him with the scope. It was perched on the very edge of a tall rock outcropping, much like Link himself was. There was only one moblin on the top level, sitting down and looking bored, although he knew there were likely to be at least two others on the lower level. This particular encampment was built in the same ramshackle style as any other around Hyrule but looked more rickety than usual. There were noticeable gaps in the boards lashed to the dead tree serving as its central pillar. The skull adorning the top of the tree was smaller and sadder than usual. Link snorted. These moblins would be easy pickings.

Hylia, but even the monsters in this place were depressing as hell. Why had he ever thought exploring the badlands would be _fun?_

Link gave a quick glance at the sky, estimating that he had about an hour before sundown, maybe an hour and a half. He bit his lip. He could do this. He needed their cooking pot, and then he would be out of there. The blood moon was tonight, and he wanted to be away from this dumb place before midnight for sure.

Link took a deep, calming breath. _You can do this. You are the appointed knight of the princess of Hyrule, and you will be the Hero of Hyrule. Soon enough, anyway. Whenever you finally get around to stopping Calamity Ganon._

He cracked his knuckles, shook his arms out a little bit, and launched himself off the cliff.

The wind tore through his hair and his clothes. He had to wrench the part of himself screaming in exhilaration back into focus, reminding himself sternly that if the part of him that liked freefalling got his way, he would be very, very dead dozens of times over. He reached behind him with both hands to where he’d stuffed the paraglider between his scabbard and sword belt and snapped it out. His arms jerked almost painfully as his momentum was arrested.

Link angled himself toward the lazy moblin on the top level. It would be a piece of cake to silently drop behind it and sneakstrike it. He was ten feet away from the top platform –

Oh, _shit_. A second moblin was rounding the corner going up the staircase, and judging by its sudden halt and jerk of the head, there was no way it hadn’t noticed him. It brought a horn up to its mouth and was about to blow. 

Time seemed to slow. This was what Link was trained to do.

In one swift movement, he snapped the paraglider shut, pulled his bow from behind him, nocked an arrow, pulled back, aimed, let loose, watched the moblin fall back down the stairs with an arrow in its neck.

Link rolled as he hit the top level. He was immediately ready to let a second arrow fly at the other moblin, which was now scrambling to its feet and reaching for a claymore beside it. His aim wasn’t nearly as good the second time; the arrow remained stuck in the moblin’s shoulder.

Link reached behind him and grasped the handle of his guardian sword. He stared down the moblin for a split second, then whipped the sword out for dramatic effect, feeling a burst of fierce satisfaction as the blade formed in a blaze of blue light. He twirled it once, watching the light trails and a few sparks arc off the blade’s path. He was much too fond of this sword. It was by far the most badass looking one he’d ever managed to scavenge.

The moblin was, unfortunately, unimpressed. It roared at him and brought the claymore behind its shoulder, ready to strike.

Link smirked and taunted, “You think you can hit me?” The blade whistled toward him, and he nimbly leaped back, letting the moblin stumble on the backswing before he darted in and cut across its side.

Link jumped back again as the moblin howled in pain. That was the best thing about this sword, he thought. The wounds it left were nice, clean, cauterized cuts that didn’t spray blood all over his nice tunic. “Come at me,” he shouted, feeling adrenaline flood his veins.

Suddenly he heard footsteps and angry grunting behind him. Damn, he’d almost forgotten about the moblins on the lower level. He whipped around to see two very angry moblins with very nasty looking dragonbone clubs almost on him.

 _Fuck._ He was surrounded.

But it would be foolish to count him out now, not when he had the Champions at his back.

Link reached down deep inside himself and summoned pure, unyielding fury, a century of rage and destruction that was the Champion Urbosa’s gift to him. He let it consume him like fire as he hefted his sword and readied his strike, let it burn through his veins until he could see Urbosa herself. She was barely there, nothing but an outline of golden light wreathed in flame, but her smirk was distinct.

Urbosa’s voice was deep and commanding, but with an undeniable sense of humor. “You’re all fools for having tested him,” she told the moblins, before she snapped her fingers and vanished in a blaze of light.

In her place came streaks of lightning arcing from the sky, paralyzing the moblins. Link snatched up the claymore the lazy moblin had dropped. “You’ll live to fight another day,” he murmured to the guardian sword before stowing it away. The day his beloved shiny blue sword broke would be a sad day indeed.

While the moblins were still trapped by the electric current, shuddering in pain and fury, Link moved deftly between them, able to hack at the poor monsters with impunity. He had knocked the lazy moblin off the platform with one great swing of the claymore before the other two finally were able to lurch forward. And they looked _pissed._

The moblin to the left hefted its dragonbone club in what looked like would be an absolutely brutal attack if it landed. Fury burning in its eyes, the moblin swung.

Link jumped.

He could see the path the club was taking in his mind’s eye as if time itself had slowed down. He could feel the club grazing against the edge of his tunic as he twisted backward, executing a perfect backflip.

Link was about to smirk when he realized that his feet had not yet found the ground. 

He was now upright, but falling past the platform at an alarming velocity, wind nearly tearing the claymore out of his hand. For a second, he couldn’t think.

Then he at least had the presence of mind to sheath the claymore and snap out his paraglider, angling straight for the rock face. He almost collided with it until he put the glider away and got a firm grip on the stone. He clung there for a few moments, heart thundering in his ears, seething with embarrassment, anger, and sheer indignation.

“I can’t believe this,” he said out loud. Unbidden, a ridiculous image popped into his mind of the moblins laughing hysterically and traveling the land, regaling other monster encampments with the tale of the idiot the Goddess chose. Some Champion of Hyrule he was.

Grumbling, he reached his hand up for the next convenient handhold, when he heard the unmistakable electric crackling of a shock arrow being drawn.

In a panic, Link glanced over his left shoulder, only to see a bokoblin with a bow and shock arrow pointed straight at him. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” he yelled. He cursed himself for not double checking whether there were lookout platforms. These happened to be placed about halfway down the cliff and invisible from the high vantage point behind the encampment that Link had had.

He desperately pushed himself off the rock face to leap out of the path of the arrow, but it was too late. He felt the arrow punch into his shoulder blade, agony tearing through his body as his muscles seized up. He was only half-conscious when he lost his grip on the cliff and rolled down it, thudding against sharp stones the whole way. Bones snapped, skin tore, and he just wanted the pain to _end._

He hit the bottom of the cliff.

Darkness.

For one blissful second, everything was darkness and there was no pain. 

Then Link was dragging a huge breath into his lungs, the world around him too bright. He cried out as his bones cracked and straightened and his scrapes scabbed over and then healed in the blink of an eye. But he was mercifully free of that goddess-cursed shock arrow, at least.

Mipha was the one tending to his wounds, hands outstretched, palms facing him. Her outline was wreathed in blue fire that almost looked like a halo. From the one memory he had of her from before the Calamity, he knew that her healing was usually gentle and gradual. But this felt like she was pumping as much healing energy into him as possible within the short time their connection granted her. This was healing magic made for the heat of battle.

“I am so embarrassed you had to see that,” Link gasped out.

Mipha looked startled for a brief moment, then her expression settled into a gentle, if slightly sad, smile. “I will heal you no matter the circumstances,” she assured him.

“I backflipped off a _cliff_ , Mipha,” he groaned, bringing a palm to his forehead partly to cover his embarrassment and partly to assuage his raging headache.

Mipha said with good humor, “Then you had best make sure you don’t do it again, right?” Then she vanished, leaving nothing but a brief trace of blue fire.

As she disappeared, a final burst of Mipha’s power left Link feeling good as new. Better, even. He jumped to his feet and took stock of his situation. It seemed the two bokoblins had assumed he was killed by the fall and lost interest, facing anywhere but where he was standing. Stupid monsters.

When the bokoblin nearest to him was facing away, Link silently jogged over to the cliff face, close enough to the platform that the bokoblin would only see him if it looked straight down. He gripped the rock face and hauled himself up as quietly as possible, aiming to climb onto the platform and sneakstrike the monster.

But when he heard the surprised grunt of the bokoblin and the subsequent blast on a horn, he was ready. He pushed off from the cliff, twisting in midair, barely managing to grab onto the platform’s ladder with one hand. He winced as splinters dug into his fingers, but ignored the pain, climbing up the rest of the ladder before the bokoblin could even think to fire a shock arrow at him. He jumped up and barely registered the fear in the monster’s eyes before he drew his claymore and slashed across its chest, sending the body flying and leaving a great bloody mess on the platform and on the spot where the bokoblin landed.

The other bokoblin screeched. Its platform was about fifty feet away, and Link quickly judged that the likelihood of him getting to it without getting pegged by another shock arrow was slim. He instead launched himself up the cliff, scrambling up a few natural handholds. He felt the static of a shock arrow nearly grazing the back of his tunic, and that gave him the boost he needed to drag himself over the edge.

Staring straight down at him were three very upset moblins.

Link yelped and rolled out of the way of a club smashing down onto the ground. Shaking, he jumped to his feet and pulled out his claymore. He tried to maneuver under one moblin’s arms to place a well-aimed strike, but the other moblin’s club caught him in the back before he could, sending him flying into the central pillar of the encampment. 

The impact drove all breath out of his body, and he could see nothing but stars. All he could think was _thank the Goddess Mipha didn’t have to see that one._

Link scrambled to his feet, now pissed and a little nauseous. “I’ve had about enough of this garbage,” he yelled at the moblins, who were lumbering menacingly toward him.

He turned tail and sprinted around the dead tree, praying frantically that he was far enough away to not get killed again. He dropped the claymore, pulled out his bow, and nocked a bomb arrow. He even felt a little bad for the moblins. They didn’t seem to have any idea what was coming.

Link fired the arrow.

The moblins were caught up in the blast, bodies knocked out and sideways. He flinched back a bit, suddenly suspicious that some of his hair was singed by the fireball. Or maybe even that he had been burned. The heat against his face had been intense.

Despite the fact that exhaustion and pain was dogging his every step, causing his feet to drag, he somehow managed to give each of the three injured moblins final blows before they could get up again. He strayed too close to the edge of the cliff, and the final bokoblin screeched and blew its horn.

“Seriously?” Link threw the claymore to the ground. He had forgotten about the stupid monster. “All your friends are dead!” he shouted at it.

The bokoblin seemed to neither understand nor care.

Grumbling, Link readied his bow. His first show missed the small platform entirely. That was fine. He did have to pull back immediately to prevent getting hit by a shock arrow. His second shot missed by an even wider margin. Now, that was disappointing. His third arrow actually hit the platform, but was still a few feet away from hitting the intended target.

“Hylia help me and this stupid creature,” Link said slowly, trying and failing to master his temper.

In the end, he pulled out the Sheikah Slate and dropped a metal crate on the monster with Magnesis. It was messier, but at least he would get a few rupees and roasted goodies out of it.

Link collapsed onto the ground, exhausted. He lost track of time as he let himself relax. He’d almost drifted into a pleasant deep sleep when he abruptly realized how cold it had gotten. 

His eyes flew open. The sun had set hours ago. The blood moon was tonight.

Link scrambled to his feet, grabbing the claymore and jogging up to the very top of the encampment, where the moblins had left an unopened treasure chest. He fervently hoped that it was a nice weapon; the claymore was alright, but two-handed weapons were a bit too unwieldy for his tastes.

He knelt down before the chest and flipped the latch. Inside the chest, nestled on a cushion of red velvet, was a purple rupee.

 _Seriously?_ He had gone through all this trouble and nearly _died_ for a measly fifty rupees?

Link’s heart was _not_ filled with generosity at the moment.

He scowled and kicked the chest over on its side after pocketing the rupee. It was time to get out of this miserable place. He whistled sharply, the sound carrying far in the night air. In the distance, he heard a whinny. He’d left his horse Princess far out of sight of the encampment. Princess was far too valuable to get caught in the crossfire.

The snow-white horse was easy to spot, even at night, and Link glided down to him when he came to a halt in front of the encampment. Princess was clearly nervous. He whickered and shifted around when Link climbed on him, and he tried his best to soothe him.

“Shh, it’ll be okay,” he murmured, glancing anxiously at the sky. The ominous red glow of the blood moon was starting to crest Death Mountain. Anyone would be nervous tonight.

He urged Princess into a full gallop, not looking back at the encampment. He was running out of time.

He had hoped to reach Woodland Stable by midnight, but judging by the ghastly bloody light that shone on everything, he had wasted too much time killing moblins. Shivering, he guided Princess to a rock face, so he could at least have his back against something.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. He had nothing to worry about, because he hadn’t killed anything in the general vicinity. 

If he was being honest with himself, that wasn’t why he was scared.

The harsh red light of the moon intensified until even the shadows looked dark crimson. The trees across the road from him looked like they were bleeding. Link shuddered. The embers of malice rising up from the earth made him feel sick. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing sickly magenta swirls of malice and hearing shrieks and cries of monsters and machines. 

It was now midnight. He could tell, could almost feel the Calamity’s malevolent energy permeating the land and undoing his victories.

_The blood moon rises once again._

It was the voice of Princess Zelda, sent to him from a great distance and full of desperation, echoing in his skull and drowning out all reason.

_Please be careful, Link._

Her words had a century of feeling behind them. They carried a hundred years of pain and torment, an unspoken past between them that he couldn’t quite remember.

She was trapped inside the Calamity and every month she risked everything to say something to him, even if it was the same unnecessary warning over and over again. Maybe that was all she could manage.

But either way, Zelda was risking everything to save Hyrule. The weight of emotion behind her words broke his heart. She believed in him, and for the life of him he couldn’t understand why. He did not feel brave at all in this moment. He did not feel like someone who could save Hyrule.

The red light faded, leaving Link and Princess alone and shaken. His face was wet for some odd reason, and he swiped angrily at it with his sleeve, sniffling a bit.

Together, he and his horse set off for Woodland Stable.


	2. In Which Link Tries to Pay His Debts

Link and Princess finally reached Woodland Stable just before dawn. He hadn’t trusted himself to stay on the horse at a gallop when he was so hungry and exhausted, so he had left the pace up to Princess and hoped that the horse would make some kind of noise to let him know if there were any monsters around.

Link was startled out of his half-asleep state when Princess came to a halt. Panic shot through his mind. He fumbled behind him for the handle of the claymore.

But the Goddess had been with him. He blinked blearily, recognizing through a haze of exhaustion that they were at the stable. Smart horse. That was why he hadn’t simply traveled to the nearest shrine with the Sheikah Slate. Princess was too valuable to leave out in the wild. He would have to be returned to Princess Zelda when Link finally destroyed Calamity Ganon.

About to fall asleep on his horse, Link lost his train of thought. A good thing, too. Else he would have started dwelling on the Calamity and on Princess Zelda. He was just being stupid, he thought scornfully. The blood moon always put him on edge and made him overly emotional. He needed to sleep.

Somehow, he managed to stumble inside the stable, where the owner Kish was reclining on a chair, yawning. “Oh, hey, Link,” he murmured, glancing at the other sleeping patrons. “Your usual?”

Link just yawned and nodded. Kish gestured to the bed behind him. He would doubtlessly force the twenty rupees out of Link when he woke up.

His sleep was pleasantly deep and dreamless, but when he was dragged out of unconsciousness by some sort of commotion outside, his eyes were crusted shut and there was a foul taste in his mouth. “Fi’ more minuss,” he mumbled into his pillow.

A loud shriek startled him fully awake, setting his heart racing. Link bolted upright and snatched up his guardian sword, looking wildly around the inside of the stable.

Nothing. There was no one to be impressed by the sword, either. Link huffed and peered out through the open doors of the stable at the shadows cast by some nearby trees. It was around noon.

The shriek sounded again, and Link wanted to laugh. Oh. It was just an obnoxious bird in one of the surrounding trees. His paranoia born of being a warrior wasn’t always helpful, it seemed.

Just as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his muscles screamed in pain and seized up, and his stomach let out the largest grumble he’d ever heard from it. Link took in a sharp breath and wondered if he shouldn’t just go back to sleep and let the world carry on without him. No moblins, no starvation, no Calamity Ganon. Sounded perfectly agreeable to him.

Then his stomach grumbled again, and he decided that there was to be no more sleep anyway until he ate. He may have been blessed by the Goddess Hylia, but he was still a mortal Hylian. A poor, sore Hylian, endlessly abused by his destiny.

_Someone owes me for all this,_ he thought decisively as he sheathed the guardian sword and strapped the claymore to his back. _I want a royal chef at my command. Perhaps at a small estate somewhere around here._ He thought for another second. _And a dog. I want a dog._

Link hobbled out of the stable and glanced around. It was a beautiful day outside. Shifting patterns of shadows dappled the ground as leaves rustled in the breeze. But the stable grounds were curiously empty, he noted with an uneasy frown. The paths around the front of the stable were undisturbed, the covered crates to his right were unbroken and unmoved, but there was no one around, not even on the wooden deck to his left. Even Kish was absent from his typical place behind the counter.

It was just his paranoia, he reassured himself. There was no reason to believe that everyone was in danger all the time. Well, besides the _tiny_ problem of the Calamity. But that was different. Still, Link found himself unable to fully relax.

Link’s gaze was eventually drawn to several crisp, bright red apples just sitting out on a stack of crates, ready for the taking. Who did that? Everyone at the stable knew Link would eat them all. He made a beeline for the apples, stomach clenching painfully, trying in vain not to seem too weird about it.

He’d snatched up an apple and taken a massive bite, luxuriating in the delicious, juicy sweetness of its flesh, when someone shrieked his name from behind him.

Link whirled around. “Whuh?” he yelled through a mouthful of apple, a bit flying out onto the ground, right hand going for his sword.

He had to look down before he saw Shamae, a girl of about five or six who shared the same braided dark hair and wide eyes as her older sister Breen. “Did you bring more balloons?” Shamae asked. Her voice had only one volume: loud.

Link had to pause for a second to choke his mouthful of apple down, then he grinned broadly. “You bet I did. Killed a bunch of octoroks just for you.”

Shamae squealed in delight. “Let’s play with them!” she shouted. With much more enthusiasm than Link felt.

But he only shrugged, unable to stop himself from feeling at least a little bit pleased that Shamae liked him. He liked most kids. They were fun. “Sure, let’s do it,” he said.

Link patiently herded the little girl back the way he had originally come, pausing for a second to glance at two figures on the road headed towards the stable. One of them was clearly Beedle; the traveling salesman’s silhouette looked just as round and bulky as ever. The other was less distinct. Probably some average traveler.

“Hey, let’s prank that guy,” Link said, pointing the traveler out to Shamae. “We’ll spook him with flying barrels when he gets here.”

Shamae hopped a bit and clapped her hands. “Let’s make the barrels fly way up high!” she shouted.

Link grinned. “Okay, but we gotta be quieter. And we should hide behind that tree.” He pointed at a tree that stood on the opposite side of the wood deck, alongside the shore of Pico Pond. Shamae nodded her head vigorously in agreement. Link picked up one of the barrels clustered around a table and carried it over to the fence. He was about to toss the barrel over the fence when he heard Kish calling out to him.

“Link, did you pay me yet?” The stable master was making his way over to him from the direction of the pond.

_Shit._ He owed Kish more than just the 20 rupees from the night before. He’d racked up a tab from the several nights he had spent here. _Especially_ from that night he had splurged on the extra nice bed.

Dammit, he knew that had been a poor use of his money.

Link surreptitiously slipped his hand into his wallet. He had only the purple rupee he’d gotten the night before and another red rupee. He owed Kish a hundred rupees. And he knew that Kish knew he was coming up with excuses not to pay it.

Kish was close enough for Link to see his raised eyebrow, and he panicked. “One second, I gotta talk to Breen first,” he blurted. He pressed the octo balloons into Shamae’s hand and barreled past the stable owner without bothering to look at how angry he probably was.

The best place he could think to go was the shrine across the pond, and soon enough, he spotted Breen sitting in front of it. Link strolled over to the shrine at the other side of Pico Pond, trying his best to seem casual. The shade cast by the reddish, craggy cliffs ensconcing the pond and the pleasantly cool breeze whispering through the trees were a welcome relief from the midday sun. He’d started to sweat under his tunic and greaves. Sky blue was not a good color to get sweat stains on.

Breen’s eyes flicked to him when he was about twenty feet away from the shrine, and she gave him a halfhearted wave.

Before he could stop himself, Link blurted out, “Dinraal’s fire, who died?” Wait, what if someone had died? Goddess, his big, stupid _mouth_ –

Breen’s eyes widened, and Link hastily backpedaled. “Oh, Goddess, I didn’t mean that, I’m so sorry – “

Breen cut him off, a slight glimmer of humor in her eyes. “No one died. You’re fine.” Her good mood was gone as quickly as it came, and she turned her gaze out to the pond again.

Link hesitated for a moment, then sat down next to her, leaving a healthy few feet of distance. He watched the blue glow of the shrine reflected and rippling in the clear waters.

“It’s my dad,” said Breen, voice barely above a whisper.

Link started slightly. “What?”

“I told him that I want to travel around Hyrule. Or take a trip to Lanayru, at least,” Breen said. “He said it was too dangerous.”

Link had to agree. If Breen knew how to fight, if she was willing to accept the risks, then he wouldn’t mind, but he was much better equipped to fight monsters than she was and he still had trouble. He then glanced over at Breen, who seemed on the verge of tears. Link instantly sobered. “I’m sorry,” he said uncertainly.

“My dad said I’ll be taking over for him one day,” Breen sniffled.

He couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to be that trapped. If her father told her that her role in life was to own a stable, was there no other way for her? Her destiny wasn’t to – Oh. Maybe he understood better than he thought. Maybe he did understand what it was like to feel trapped by a destiny he felt ill-equipped for.

He made a decision. He would help Breen get to Lanayru.

Link jumped to his feet, prompting a panicked look from Breen. “You’re not going to fight anyone, are you?” she cried.

Link gave her a lopsided grin. “Only monsters.” He then jogged off back toward the stable, quickly throwing together a plot in his head that may or may not have been insane. Spotting a soldier’s spear leaning up against a rock, he surreptitiously grabbed it. It was cheaply made, meant more for frightening off a bokoblin than for actual heavy combat, but it would still be useful. He liked spears.

The traveler was almost to the stable. Link realized it was Molo, the guy who always wanted to loot Hyrule Castle but couldn’t find the courage to do it. He was wearing his usual expression of casual disinterest. Beedle was in the process of setting his massive pack down on the ground, and watched them with some interest. Kish was nowhere to be seen yet, thank the Goddess.

“Hey, Molo,” Link called out. “I have an idea.”

Molo looked at him with a frown, pushing his blond hair back from his face. “I can’t really right now – “

Kish was heading around from the back of the stable, and it was obvious when he’d seen Link from the dark expression on his face. Link briefly prayed that Mipha wouldn’t have to see him getting beaten to death by a stable owner.

“You keep saying that you want to go to Hyrule Castle, right?” Link asked, loudly for Kish’s benefit. He roughly grabbed Molo’s arm and dragged him away from the stable, into the sparse forest across from it. “You still need that cash and cachet, right? Well, I can help you take care of the cash part. As long as you help me.”

Molo pulled himself free, rubbing his arm and giving Link an aggrieved look.

“Look,” Link said quietly. “I don’t know how much you know about Breen’s traveling ambitions, but I’ve seen enough of Hyrule to know that she should see it too. Safely, of course,” he amended. No need to mention that he wanted to avoid Kish’s wrath.

Molo sighed, internally warring with himself. “Fine.”

Link clapped his hands. “Good. There’s a camp of bokoblins a little bit down the south road. We strip their camp of anything useful, including bokoblin fangs or guts, and then we sell everything to Beedle. Easy enough.”

Molo looked at him aghast. “ _That’s_ how you make your money?”

Link just shrugged. “Cash and cachet.”

Molo let out a sharp breath. “Right as always, bud. Let’s do this.”

 

//||\\\

 

“How do I look?” Link asked Molo, his voice muffled by stiff fabric.

Molo hesitated. “And just where did you get that? Don’t get me wrong, it’s super cool and all, but…”

Link adjusted the bokoblin mask on his head so he could actually see out of the eyeholes. “It’s a bit of a long story,” he said in between adjustments. “I got it from this guy named Kilton. Looks funny. Has a flying monster-themed shop that’s only open at night. He uses his own currency called mon. I also bought a moblin mask from him.”

Molo peered at him. “I think you’re making that up, bud.”

“No! I – “ Link sighed. “Never mind.”

“Do you think that’ll fool them?” asked Molo as he strapped on his broadsword and shield.

Link nodded solemnly, the mask’s snout flapping as he did so. “Bokoblins are very, very stupid monsters.”

Molo looked unconvinced, but didn’t press any further. “So let me get this straight – the plan is that you infiltrate the camp and steal all their weapons. And I’m hiding behind that tree over there.” He pointed at the tree.

“Right,” Link said.

“And…you pass all of the weapons to me.”

“Also right.”

“And _then_ we attack them.”

“You nailed it.” Link adjusted the mask again. It kept slipping down his face. He imagined it looked much like he was melting, and that was not conducive to being sneaky.

“Isn’t there…a better way to do this? Like, can’t we just jump out and kill them like normal people?”

Link frowned. “You _could._ Or you could do it the fun way.”

Molo thought for a second, and then nodded. “You’re right, bud. If I can’t learn about different combat strategies now, how will I ever survive Hyrule Castle?”

“That’s the spirit,” Link said. He pulled out the Sheikah Slate and studied the bokoblin camp from their position among the trees. The camp was right out in the open, next to the road. They had a couple of lookout platforms, but only one was manned. (Monstered? Link filed that one away for further contemplation.) The rest of the bokoblins looked like they were having some sort of feast celebration around the main campfire. Link’s stomach grumbled loudly upon catching sight of the heaps of grilled meat the bokoblins were tearing into. “Ugh,” he muttered.

Molo glanced at him. “What is it?”

“I’m hungry,” Link groaned, aware he sounded like a whiny kid but unable to stop himself.

“Well, then why don’t you – stay with me here – kill the monsters now, before all the meat gets cold?” Molo’s tone of voice dripped pure sarcasm.

Link very much wanted to argue with that, but he opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Fair point,” he conceded.

Molo abruptly shoved him out of the woods, hissing, “Good luck,” at him. Link staggered a few paces, then caught his balance, unsure of what to do next. Should he try to imitate a bokoblin’s bow-legged gait? But then Molo would mock him forever. This was a true conundrum.

Link settled for a slow normal walk towards the fire, but doubts started to cloud his mind with every step. What if Molo, the wannabe Hyrule Castle looter, was actually right? What if this actually was a really, really stupid plan? What if –

A blue bokoblin’s gaze settled on Link, whose every instinct screamed _attack_ as a sudden burst of fear hit him. He forced himself to keep walking, and the bokoblin turned around, uninterested. He let out a breath he wasn’t fully aware he had been holding. He had no reason to be scared, he told himself. He could easily take on this camp by himself.

He sat down by the campfire, leaning against a log, and eyed the bokoblins warily. They weren’t… _screeching_ , necessarily, but the noises they were making were still shrill, if at a lower volume than normal. Was this how they communicated? Link found himself overcome by morbid curiosity as the bokoblins all chittered at each other while making hand gestures.

After a little while, it seemed to be one bokoblin speaking and gesturing at a time, with the others sometimes interjecting with loud screeches and a bizarre hopping dance that Link could only interpret as the monster equivalent of knee-slapping laughter. He began paying more attention to the hand gestures, given that he had a slightly better chance of interpreting them.

The bokoblin across the circle from him was…bludgeoning something to death? That seemed about right. Now it was stabbing something with a spear. The bokoblin dropped to its knees and actually did a pretty good imitation of a terrified Hylian, which got the other bokoblins all excited and making too much noise. And then – oh. Oh, Goddess. He really hoped that wasn’t what he thought it was. That was disgusting.

It was like watching a fully-functional Guardian patrol its territory, spider legs moving about. Link couldn’t look away.

The monster storytime continued around the circle for quite a while, and when Link was certain he wouldn’t get murdered at some point, he finally had the presence of mind to inch his way over to the weapons. They were propped up against another log perpendicular to his, about ten feet away. The bokoblins were engrossed in another elaborate account of pillage and murder and didn’t notice when Link slowly got to his feet and picked up a boko club, which had been “enhanced” by way of strapping fangs and stones to a hunk of wood with fraying bits of rope.

Link hesitantly walked backwards, then glanced back at the tree line, where Molo was waving him forward with an impatient gesture. Link looked back at the group of monsters, heart pounding in his ears. He was admittedly much more nervous than he should have been, and he wasn’t quite sure why. Was it the audience? Link shook his head, dislodging his doubts like spider webs, and gently tossed the club to Molo, who fumbled at it for a brief moment. Link cringed, seeing in his mind’s eye the reactions of the bokoblins when the club thudded to the ground. But Molo managed to snatch it back to his chest, and Link let out a breath.

He crept back to the fire, feeling somewhat more confident by now. He was about to reach for a broadsword leaning against the log when he realized that the eyes of the bokoblins were on him.

Link froze. The bokoblins were not moving, apart from some twitching ears.

For one brief, terrifying second, Link was absolutely sure the monsters were about to rip him apart with their bare hands.

Then the striped one, the leader of the group, flapped its arms impatiently.

Link blinked. Did it…want him to tell a _story?_

Some of the blue bokoblins started shifting around, and Link made a decision.

“Um…” he muttered under his breath as he cast around in his mind for a suitable story to tell. He had always been terrible at charades every time the children of Kakariko or Hateno asked him to play.

He gestured around at the camp and then mimicked the monster imitations of Hylians, hoping it would convey the point. The bokoblins nodded sagely.

He pretended to stab at a Hylian with a spear, which got the bokoblins chattering in approval. Link grinned under his mask, and stumbled backwards while fake sobbing, falling on his ass after a few steps. He rolled his arms to mimic the action of falling off a cliff, bouncing repeatedly on the way down. The monsters all screeched in laughter, dancing around the fire in their clumsy way.

Link let out a relieved breath. Goddess, he could not believe this. No one else would, either.

Then he noticed one bokoblin who was not joining in on the party. It was watching him closely, head tilted. Link could almost see the question mark above its head as suspicion dawned on its face. Link’s blood ran cold.

The bokoblin suddenly screamed, pointing at Link. The other monsters stopped, heads snapping to face him.

“By Hylia, this better not be the way I go,” Link muttered.

The bokoblins charged, and like that, Link was surrounded.

He panicked. Mipha had healed him just yesterday, and he didn’t have the energy to summon her spirit again. He was still running on fumes, half an apple the only thing in his belly, and as monsters around him pointed spears, leveled clubs, and threw rocks at his head, Link did the only thing he could think to do in the heat of the moment.

He dropped into a crouch, hearing a shriek as a stone aimed between his eyes flew and hit another bokoblin instead. He planted his palm on the ground and screwed his eyes shut. His breath came out in gasps. He felt the earth below him and the sky above, felt out the movement of the air around him, and repeated his usual mantra. _Please, Revali, don’t be a jerk this time._

The very air exploded into motion around him, tearing his bokoblin mask off, and he snapped his paraglider out and let the wind yank him into the sky. Link spotted Revali’s pale green outline flying circles around him as the angry and confused monsters dwindled below them.

“ _What_ was that monstrosity you were wearing just now?” Revali asked, pretty damn casually for such a near death experience.

Link leveled a glare at him. “It was working,” he hollered past the gale that was carrying him up.

Revali gave him the perfect amount of side-eye and tilted his head up just so, conveying casual arrogance, and he opened his stupid mouth –

And then he was gone. The wind halted, and Link was suspended above the camp.

Link sighed, feeling oddly bereft. Time to get back to business.

The physical distance had brought mental clarity as well, and Link realized that with Molo hanging around, it was best to play it safe for now. He folded the paraglider and went into freefall, pulling out his royal bow and nocking a bomb arrow with practiced movements. There was little need to aim when the monsters were all in a clump, waiting for him to come back down; the bomb arrow found its mark.

Link pulled the paraglider out again, letting the force of the blast and the ensuing updraft from burning grass buoy him. Most of the monsters were staggering about, dropping burning weapons from scorched hands. It looked pretty ugly down there, and Link readied round two to put them out of their misery.

But as he drew the bowstring back, he spotted a Hylian running around the camp and hacking at monsters. He did a double take.

Just what in the name of the Goddess did Molo think he was doing?

A furious hiss escaped through his teeth. Link hastily stowed the bow and pulled out his soldier’s spear, angling his fall for a blue bokoblin before he could hit the ground and break all his bones.

He jammed the spear through the bokoblin’s neck but held on, letting the momentum carry him forward in an arc until he hit the ground rolling as the bokoblin crumpled.

Link tried in vain to pull the spear back through the corpse’s neck, but the spearhead had gotten snagged on the spine or something and he couldn’t pull it free. There was a blur of movement in the corner of his eye and –

Molo was standing there, gasping out ragged breaths with his bloodied broadsword in hand. A red bokoblin was bleeding out at his feet.

Link stared mutely for a second, and then whirled around to eviscerate a blue bokoblin that had been trying to sneak up from behind.

Link let pure instinct carry him through the rest of the fight, cutting down weak and burned monsters with clumsy swipes of the claymore. Exhaustion dragged at his limbs and narrowed his vision to a tunnel, and he half feared that he would not make it out this time.

He tripped over a discarded boko club and fell to his knees in the dirt. He couldn’t get back up again. Link closed his eyes, letting the din of the battle fade away. He felt curiously empty.

_Zelda, forgive me._

Something hit his shoulder, and he nearly sprawled forward onto the ground. He couldn’t help thinking that it had been a good run. If the literal incarnation of all evil was too much for him, well, was that really his fault?

“Bud!” Molo was yelling, Link eventually realized. “Please don’t pass out on me. I’m not carrying you back to the stable.”

Link made a vague gesture with the little energy he had left.

“Help me out here,” Molo said irritably.

“Meat,” Link groaned.

“Ah,” said Molo. “You do look pretty wiped.”

Link wanted to scoff at “pretty wiped,” but he settled for snatching the meat out of Molo’s hands when he retrieved it. As he scarfed the burnt meat down, he started to feel a little bit better. “Blessed by the Goddess Hylia with an infinite stomach,” he vaguely remembered being called before. One hundred years before. The memory was as distant to him as Princess Zelda was now.

“Naydra’s scale, you seem really out of it.” Molo was also tearing into a hunk of meat, casting the occasional concerned glance his way. “What happened?”

_The Calamity happened,_ Link wanted to reply sourly. But that was a whole new chest of rupoors to open, and Molo would never believe him.

That wasn’t a chest he wanted to open, frankly. It was better that he buried the memories. Better that he forgot the burning and the death and the utter hopelessness that still crept up on him once in a while.

Link scowled. He’d spent the whole afternoon trying to forget about the blood moon and the fears and anxieties that came with it, and now this stupid fight had to go ruin things again.

“I was supposed to eat yesterday, and I never did,” Link said instead of what he was thinking. Well, it wasn’t a lie.

Molo raised an eyebrow at him, clearly wondering just how stupid he was. Better stupid than about to give up and leave Hyrule to ruin, Link thought, kicking at a pebble.

“Hand me another piece, would you?” Link asked Molo, gesturing at the dwindling pile of roasted steak. The meat was unseasoned, but surprisingly well-cooked and flavorful for such a primitive campfire. Although that might have been his hunger talking. He could eat the most disgusting of dubious foods if it meant it would bring him back from the brink of passing out.

Molo complied, staring at him with wide eyes. “Wait, when _was_ the last time you ate?”

Link just shrugged, his mouth full. His energy was coming back in leaps and bounds, and now Molo was the one who looked exhausted. When Link had finished, he jumped to his feet, declaring, “We’ll be rich men by the time we get back to the stable.”

Molo gave a dubious look at the scattered fangs and horns that had been left behind when the bokoblin corpses had vanished in a burst of sickly purple smoke. “You think?”

Link hesitated. Maybe this hadn’t been as good of an idea as he thought it was. His “send Breen to Lanayru while also paying Link’s debts” fund was not getting off to a good start.

Molo huffed, clearly understanding Link’s dilemma. “Don’t forget I saved your life, bud.”

Link forced a smile. “Oh, well, I was going to give some of the money to Breen anyway. I don’t know if she told you about her traveling plans…”

Molo propped his head up on his hand. “She did. I guess I can consider this a noble effort at fundraising. What else are friends for?”

Link’s smile faltered. _Friends._ He had friends. Didn’t he? Breen was a friend. The ever-enthusiastic Prince Sidon was a friend. But he couldn’t hear the word without seeing blurry images of Daruk clapping him on the back, Mipha cradling his arm gently as she healed it, or Princess Zelda’s sunny smile. Those memories were lost to time immemorial now, alive only in his mind. He couldn’t think about his friends without thinking of all the bloodshed and death that surrounded them, or of how he barely remembered them at all. Link weighed potential responses on the spectrum between sincerity and sarcasm. None seemed like a good fit for what was really going through his mind. He chose to remain silent.

Molo apparently hadn’t noticed Link’s angst. He was shooting him annoyed looks as he gathered up dusty fangs and claws. Link groaned and rose to join him, muscles still screaming in pain.

Link and Molo made short work of the camp, clearing it of all potential valuables and dumping them into a burlap sack Molo had brought along.

When the sack was full, Molo tied it off and thrust it at Link. “Apparently, you’re all better now, so you get to carry it,” he said, deadpan but with a slight bit of envy in his voice.

Link made a face as he held it at arm’s length in a delicate grip. It smelled much the same as he imagined man-pig Ganon from the legends to smell: not good. It was unfortunate that bokoblin guts sold for a fair bit more than their claws. He would have to take a long, long bath in Pico Pond when he got back to the stable.

The pair followed the dirt road back to the stable in companionable silence. But that silence wasn’t going to last very long, Link realized as Molo cleared his throat.

“Uh…So that wind thing? What was that? And, uh, how did you do that?” Molo asked.

Uh oh. How in the world was he supposed to explain this in a way that didn’t make him sound crazy?

Seconds ticked by. Molo raised his eyebrows, expecting an answer.

“Well, you see…” Link rambled. “Uh, I saved this spirit, and he let me use his power. The wind thing you just mentioned.” _Close enough._

“Couldn’t what’s-his-face the Rito Champion do that?” Molo asked thoughtfully, as if trying to recall a childhood bedtime story. Actually, Link was sure that was exactly what he was doing.

Ooh, Revali would _love_ being called what’s-his-face. Link would have to remember to tell him that the next time he called up a gale.

“What’s so funny?” Molo muttered.

Too late, Link realized he was chuckling. “Revali would be so angry with you right now,” he said before he could stop himself.

Molo frowned. “Revali who?”

Link snorted. “The, uh, spirit. Who gave me the wind thing. I know it sounds ridiculous.”

“Not as ridiculous as you pretending to be a bokoblin,” Molo shot back.

“Hey, it worked! They really liked my story!”

Molo shook his head. “It _was_ pretty funny,” he admitted.

Link grinned, good mood restored. He found himself admiring the surroundings, marveling at how even with the kingdom of Hyrule in ruins, the wilds could be so pristine and beautiful. He supposed that the relative lack of Hylian interference was part of that, but he could see Hyrule Castle through the trees, see the dark corruption wreathing it, and he wondered if any of the wildlife noticed it at all. Life went on, he thought, as he spotted a deer watching them from the trees and songbirds flying above them.

But the influence of the Calamity was very real. Link felt the same uneasiness he always felt around enemies sweep over him, and he threw a hand up. Molo and Link both froze. They were just around the corner from the stable. The birds were silent, unnervingly so.

And then he heard a scream, and the crash of breaking pottery.

Link broke into a sprint, hearing thudding footsteps offset from his own as Molo followed behind. By the time he rounded the corner, he had an arrow nocked and at the ready, pointing toward the first enemy he saw.

Figures clad in red jumpsuits were prodding Kish toward the stable’s entrance with a vicious-looking sickle. Breen and the old man Ashe were already tied to the posts that supported the stable’s walls. A couple of the assailants turned to look at Link, sunlight glancing off the ivory masks that covered their entire faces. The blood-red upside down Sheikah eye glared at him in place of an actual face.

_The Yiga Clan._

“Ha, I knew it!” Link yelled.


	3. This Is Bananas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a few days late, OOPS. Sorry. I was traveling n stuff. Enjoy!

“Knew _what?_ ” Molo hissed, staring wide-eyed at the Yiga.

Link frowned. “Um…” Well, he was right about the presence of enemies. But he hadn’t suspected the Yiga Clan. This behavior was totally out of the ordinary for them –

“Get down!” Link yelled as twin arrows came flying at him. He twisted out of the way. Not fast enough – he registered a sting in his right arm as an arrowhead grazed him.

Sucking in a sharp breath, he fired a shot at the Yiga archer that was hanging in midair. The arrow flew through empty space; the archer had teleported somewhere out of his line of sight, cackling maniacally.

Goddess cursed duplex bows. What he wouldn’t give to get his hands on one of those –

Link blocked a slash from a demon carver with his bow. He blinked, and he was face-to-face with the Yiga who had attacked him. Link snarled and kicked his assailant back. The Yiga crouched and vanished in a puff of orange smoke, a blood-red rune burning in the space where the mask had been. The impassiveness of the masks unnerved him, and he swore to not let himself be taken by surprise again.

Link ran to where Breen, Kish, and Ashe were tied up. Breen was saying something, her face twisted up in fear. Link couldn’t hear her over the blood thrumming in his ears. He fumbled at the knots one-handed until he could finally pull the rope free and help Breen and Ashe to their feet. He was about to push them into the stable when the crunch of dirt sounded behind him.

Link whipped around, once again face-to-face with the Yiga footsoldier. He stepped back, stowing his bow and drawing his claymore into a threatening slash. Steel met steel in an ear-splitting clang, and before he knew it, Link was staring at a broken, jagged piece of metal on the ground.

He stumbled back on reflex. The lethal spikes of the demon carver sliced through the air where his throat had been not a second ago. Link threw the now-useless claymore handle at the Yiga’s mask, causing the assassin to shriek a curse and teleport away.

Link caught his breath and assessed the situation. All of the Yiga had vanished. Except over by the patio – some dumb footsoldier had gotten his weapon stuck in the fence. With a wordless shout of frustration, Link raised his bow. He pulled the string back –

And the top arm snapped clean off of the rest of the bow where the other footsoldier had hit it.

It was a miracle it hadn’t smacked him in the face, Link reflected in a daze. Then he squinted at the air above the Yiga. Was that – ?

An octo balloon popped, and a wooden crate came crashing down onto the Yiga’s head. The footsoldier screamed in pain, then teleported away, leaving the demon carver stuck in the fence.

Shamae emerged from behind a tree. “Thank you for the balloons, mister!” she shrieked.

Link allowed himself a few seconds to rake his hands down his face, letting the scream pent up inside him dissipate. Thank the Goddess. She was safe. They were all safe. Right?

_Molo. And Breen, and Kish, and Ashe._

He turned around, seeing with no small measure of relief that they were all fine. Molo’s broadsword was bloodied once again, but they had all taken hits.

Upon noticing the cuts and bruises on the stable dwellers, Link felt sick, his relief fading like the light of the sun was now. Dusk was quickly sweeping over the woodlands, but he could still see there was blood soaking into the dirt. He doubted if much of it was Yiga blood. If only he’d gotten to the stable sooner, been able to protect them better –

Shamae tugged at the hem of his tunic. “Thanks for saving us, Mister Link.”

Link gave her a tired smile, neck aching as he craned it down. “Hey, you helped. I knew those balloons would come in handy.”

Shamae beamed. If only she could learn to control the volume of her voice as well as she could defend her stable.

Link shook off the darkness clouding his thoughts and went to go help the others. Breen was sweeping up shattered remnants of what looked like a fancy plate, while Kish was helping Ashe over to a stool by the stable’s cooking pot out front. It took Link a while to find Molo, who was leaning against a crate at the other side of the stable. Probably to avoid getting roped into cleaning, he thought with some amusement.

Although it was still warm outside, the temperature was starting to dip along with the setting sun. Link crouched by the cooking pot and pulled out a piece of flint to light the wood underneath it. He hesitated when he realized that he didn’t have a metal weapon to strike against it anymore. What to do, what to do? He cast his gaze around, until he saw a discarded duplex bow sitting in the dust about ten feet away from him.

Link brightened. He pushed himself to his feet and snatched up the bow, briefly admiring its unorthodox curves and ribbons fluttering off of it. Maybe he wasn’t _supposed_ to be on the side of the Yiga, but their bows were cool, if a little fragile.

He rolled a chunk of red chuchu jelly over to where the flint was, then nocked an arrow and took aim. As he let the arrow fly, it somehow split in two, both new arrows striking the jelly, which burst into flame and lit the pot. He didn’t know how the bow did that, and he wasn’t about to go questioning it. Sheikah magic, probably.

“Young man!” Ashe shouted, almost startled off his stool. “There is no need to be a showoff!”

Oh. Link had forgotten he was there. He winced. “Sorry.”

Breen had just finished sweeping up the broken crockery and wandered over to the cooking pot when Link’s stomach let out a huge grumble. “But I just ate,” he muttered to himself, a little embarrassed. It wasn’t like that fight with the Yiga had really been long enough to work up an appetite…

Too late, Link noticed the amused glimmer in Breen’s eyes. She still looked pale and shaken and she had a shallow cut high on her forehead, but a smile pulled at her lips when she said, “I’ve got some fresh ingredients in the stable if you want to make something.”

“Um, sure,” said Link. He scratched the back of his head. “I’ll make some for everyone, how’s that?”

Breen grinned. “Wait here.”

Link sighed as she dashed inside. Why did he volunteer for things?

Breen emerged with some choice cuts of meat, bottles of milk, and bundles of wheat. Well, this was better than expected. Link usually settled for roasting whatever he could forage from the woods, and while that worked out fine, he was getting pretty tired of mushrooms. He rarely took the time to buy wheat or milk.

Link cooked the meat for a bit before adding the milk, wheat, and some seasonings he’d wheedled out of Breen to the pot. He stirred the soup, whistling some vague tune from the edge of his memory. Cooking was something familiar to him. Like everything else, it had taken him a while to get the hang of it after first waking up, but he knew what he was doing. It was comforting to know that somewhere, somehow, someone had taught him how to cook.

The denizens of the stable started to gather around the cooking pot as the evening’s gentle breeze wafted the soup’s aroma around. Kish clapped Link on the back in thanks, startling him into almost dropping the ladle into the pot.

Before long, they were all gathered around the pot, silently eating. The atmosphere had slowly grown tense once they were all sitting still. Breen made a few attempts at lightening the mood by making vague comments about the weather and the quality of the meal, but they all fizzled out like embers in rain.

He knew that they were all scared. The Yiga Clan were nothing but a scary myth to most people of Hyrule, single-mindedly bent on Link’s destruction. Innocents were rarely collateral. But the Yiga taking his friends and associates hostage, that struck a nerve with him.

A sudden cold fear sank into his bones, and his gaze darted between Kish and Ashe. He knew Breen liked him, and Molo didn’t live here, but he wasn’t so sure about the other two. Would they find out? Anxiety clenched his gut, and it was all he could do to not run away right that second.

Would they ever know that Link was the reason they were attacked?

And what would they do if they found out? Would they cast him out? In this vast, empty land, the people who liked him were all he had left. He couldn’t wander the wilds alone forever. But he couldn’t let them pay the price for his failure to take out the Calamity.

Feeling about ready to scream, Link breathlessly excused himself from the silent, tense dinner.

Link stomped over to the shore of the pond, pulling off all his gear and tossing it to the side. After having raked a hand through his hair many times over the last few hours, he had determined that he really, really needed a bath. It had been a few days, at least. Or more. More? Link searched back in his recent memory. By Hylia, had it been _five_ days since he’d found a stream or pond to bathe in? He shuddered.

He peeled off his tunic and inspected it for any tears. He didn’t think there would be any, most of the monsters he had fought recently had used blunt weapons… He scowled as he spotted a small rip at the bottom hem. Link sighed, absently folding the tunic. He would get to mending it later.

The ancient greaves had come off next. He had put his life on the line so many times to gather enough parts to manufacture the armor. When he had hauled the sack of gears and screws and other dumb parts into the Akkala Ancient Tech Lab, he’d been aching all over from where Guardian beams had grazed him. “This armor had better look as cool as you say it will,” he’d shouted at Robbie, who had only shrugged.

The greaves hadn’t disappointed. They were made of a strange, light yet strong metal that Link only knew was the same material the gears and screws were made of. Whorled designs that called to mind the walls of shrines glowed faintly orange, and try as he might, he could never figure out why or how they lit up.

Link hauled his armor into the pond with him, then sat and relaxed for a bit. The air had gained a chilly evening bite, but the water hadn’t lost its warmth from earlier in the day yet.

After washing himself off and giving his clothes a cursory scrub (he would get to actually cleaning them later, he _promised_ ) he sat on the shore of the pond and pulled out his tiny kit of needle and thread from his belt. With adept movements, he threaded the needle and began to mend the tear in his tunic.

It was odd because Link had never thought that a knight would know how to sew. Maybe he was wrong, because he couldn’t exactly remember that much about being a knight, but there was something strange about a needle feeling more or less as comfortable in his hands as a spear did. He hadn’t even known he could sew until a bokoblin had gotten lucky and cut a big slash in the back of his tunic. Mending it was a no-brainer for Link; he hadn’t even thought about what he was doing. Princess Zelda had made him the tunic, and Impa had held onto it for a century. Of course he had to repair it.

Link suddenly sighed. He knew why he was getting so absorbed in the events of the recent past. Knowing that someone had taught him mundane tasks such as cooking and sewing was comforting, until he thought about it too hard. One hundred years ago, there had been someone, someone who probably loved him or who he loved, who had taught him these things. And now their name and face had been lost to history.

Link tied off the thread with more force than was necessary. It wasn’t his best work, but it couldn’t be helped. Link had decided to throw himself a pity party, and he would be damned if he let the mending distract him from feeling sorry for himself.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and he jerked his head to look over his shoulder out of reflex. He relaxed when he saw Breen, but faint nerves started buzzing in his stomach when he caught the worry and concern in her expression.

Breen chewed on her lip for a second before speaking. “Um…we’re discussing what to do next, you know, because of the Yiga, and…we thought that because of your experience…you should be there.”

She was avoiding looking at the scars on his chest, he realized. At the same time, he also realized that he was still wearing nothing but his shorts.

“Uh, right,” he said lamely. Goddess, this was mortifying.

“I recommend putting some pants on first,” said Breen, faint humor evident in the quirk of her lips. Well, that made one of them who was attempting to cope with the situation in a healthy manner. She turned around and walked back to the cooking pot, leaving Link to stumble around while trying to pull his greaves and tunic back on and rake his damp hair into a presentable state.

Leaving the rest of his gear by the pond, he went to rejoin the stable-dwellers, who were engaged in a quiet, serious conversation. Kish glanced up at his and Breen’s approach. “Link. Good of you to join us.”

Link cast around for something to say. Given that he knew he was the reason they were even having this discussion, everything he could think of sounded insincere. He settled for nodding.

“To sum up what we’ve discussed so far,” Molo drawled from across the fire, “we have no idea why the Yiga attacked us. And we have no idea how to defend ourselves.”

Kish shot Molo an annoyed glare, doubtlessly about to tell him that he wasn’t a resident of the stable.

“You have weapons, and that’s a start,” said Link, cutting Kish off before he could say anything. “A few axes, a bunch of torches, and…a spear.” He felt a twinge of guilt, remembering that he had taken the spear earlier in the day and had no intentions of returning it. It wouldn’t have made a difference anyway, he reasoned before he let his guilt spiral out of control.

“But how are we supposed to defend ourselves against an enemy who can appear wherever they want?” Kish muttered in frustration. He was propping his forehead on his hand, and Link was privately glad he couldn’t see the expression on Kish’s face.

_I know how_ , Link thought, bitterness almost like a bad taste in his mouth. _I leave and never come back._

But how could he possibly convince them of that? How could he get them to believe that he was the Hylian Champion? It wasn’t like he could whip out the sword that seals the darkness as proof that he was over one hundred years old. He wouldn’t believe himself either. Things were just not going his way, were they?

He was startled out of his internal grumbling when he felt Breen whack him on the shoulder. “Link,” she was saying, her voice gently scolding. “I said, can you help us collect weapons from nearby monster camps?”

Link sighed. This was uncharted territory, as far as Yiga tactics went. For all he knew, they could come back tomorrow and this time do much more damage to him and the rest of the stable. His vague discomfort was growing into a sick certainty that he had to leave. Tomorrow, probably.

But, Goddess curse him, what could he _say?_

“I…probably shouldn’t,” Link managed lamely.

Kish fixed him with a sharp gaze, displeasure evident in the crease between his eyebrows. “And why not? You haven’t had a problem crashing here for the last few weeks.”

Link winced. Ouch. That was uncalled for. Well…maybe it was a little bit called for. But still. Molo was wearing his usual annoyed expression, and while Breen was altogether too nice to ever look angry, there was deep concern in her eyes. There was no way of worming out of this one.

“I might have,” Link began, cautiously gauging the others’ expressions, “made the Yiga Clan angry.”

“Like how angry?” Molo asked. Link shot a glare at him. They all knew how angry, given that they’d shown up to try to kill them.

“Like pretty angry,” said Link. Upon seeing the skeptical looks directed at him, he amended his statement with a sigh. “Okay, fine. Really angry.”

Kish’s face was darkening by the second, like a thundercloud of fury was casting his shadow on him. “And you didn’t think to mention that the _entire_ time you were here?”

A retort was on the tip of his tongue, but not one Kish would like or even believe. _Yeah, I thought you were safe because they just want to kill me because I’m the Hylian Champion that’s been dead for a hundred years._

But as Kish muttered under his breath, Link’s combative mood faded. “Reckless,” he was saying. “Endangering my family like that.”

Burning shame sat like a hot coal in Link’s stomach. It was one thing failing all of Hyrule as an abstract concept, but he’d forgotten what it felt like to fail someone you considered a friend. Not since he had fallen at Fort Hateno…

He had to do something. He had to stop the Yiga.

And the only way to do that, he knew with sinking certainty, was to stop the Calamity. To return to that cold, crumbling castle and face the beast.

_Baby steps, Link,_ he scolded himself as anxiety clawed at his insides. “I’ll leave for Gerudo Town tomorrow,” he muttered. It was the logical choice. Riju would know more about what was going on with the Yiga.

“Good,” Kish said darkly, standing up and storming to the stable without so much as a backwards glance. Link looked down at his feet, unable to bear the inevitable expressions of betrayal, judgement, and fear on the faces of his friends.

“Don’t mind my son,” Ashe chuckled. “He thinks he’s so high and mighty.”

Link’s attention snapped to the old man, startled by the faint amusement in his eyes. “But…I led the Yiga right to your stable – “

“Oh, don’t think so highly of yourself,” Ashe scoffed. Link almost grinned despite himself at the irony of his statement. “The Yiga are probably strapped for resources, trapped in a valley in the wasteland like they are. I am sure they wanted us as hostages to get their greedy hands on the raw materials passing through here.”

He knew it wasn’t the reason, but it made a certain amount of sense, he had to admit. “There’s that much stuff that comes through the stable?” Link asked with genuine curiosity. He’d always wondered what were in the crates stacked everywhere at every stable.

Ashe snorted. “Son, a hundred years ago the stables were the richest places in Hyrule, barring the castle itself. They connected raw materials to the fine artisans all over the kingdom. They were home to transport guilds, courier networks, sometimes full regiments of soldiers…” He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, maybe lost in recollection. “I believe that this stable in particular was always a popular resting place for pilgrims appealing to the Great Deku Tree.”

Ashe’s words were deeply familiar to Link. He was sure that he’d known this stuff personally at some point. The recollection was hanging at the fuzzy edges of his consciousness, at the tip of his tongue. It was maddening. Had his father been stationed near a stable at one point? Had Link himself worked to guard a merchant traveling with his very expensive wares?

For once, the possibilities afforded him by his missing memories were less scary and more an exercise for his imagination. Transfixed, he prodded Ashe for what came next. “What about after Hyrule’s fall?”

He wasn’t sure what sort of morbid fascination drove him to ask the question, but Ashe gave it serious thought regardless, his hand coming up to stroke his chin. “After the royal family was presumed missing and the Divine Beasts stopped working, the last remnants of the central government operated from Akkala Citadel, I believe.”

_Akkala Citadel_. In a flash of insight, he vaguely remembered Daruk helping to patch up a cracked wall in the fortress when the Champions had made a brief stop there. Only Daruk and Link had felt comfortable within the stone walls. Mipha had been uncharacteristically antsy, Revali’s feathers had been bristling, and Urbosa had made some comment about how unwelcoming the Citadel was compared to Gerudo Town with a slight sneer in her voice. Creatures of the water, sky, and desert, the lot of them. And Princess Zelda…she never seemed comfortable anywhere, except while researching.

“ – and the stables were the only way for Hyrule’s last general to communicate with the rest of the kingdom,” Ashe was saying. He suddenly stopped and peered closely at Link. “Are you alright?”

Link nodded, not trusting himself to speak. It was strange to mourn people you barely remembered, but their absence weighed on him anyway, grief pulling at him like the tides.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about the Yiga so much,” the old man said. “They’re cowards, easily scared off by flashing around a nice sword. And us stable folk can defend ourselves. We always have and we always will.”

Almost against his will, a small smile pulled at his lips at the unexpectedly comforting words. “Thank you, Ashe,” he finally said, surprised at the sincerity he felt. “I think I’ll go to bed now.”

Ashe smiled a kind, grandfatherly smile that sparked a strange, deep longing within Link. How he wished he could remember his own father or grandfather. He got up and walked over to where his weapons still lay by the pond before he could do anything to embarrass himself. Like cry, maybe.

He hesitated once he picked up the soldier’s spear. The weight of it was familiar in his hands, but his fingers still itched for a broadsword of a very particular weight and balance, and he knew he would never quite be satisfied until he regained the sword he had in his memories.

This time, he didn’t notice Breen approach until she appeared in his peripheral vision. She hesitated, wringing her hands, before asking, “Exactly how did you make the Yiga Clan so angry?”

Link huffed out a breath that could have been a faint laugh, if he were in a better mood. He didn’t have a good lie for this. Great.

“My very existence seems to offend them,” he said mournfully. _And that’s the real, honest-to-Goddess truth._

Breen almost looked like she wasn’t going to press the issue, then her lips twisted like she was trying and failing to hold in a smile. “I think your table manners made them angry.”

“My _table manners?_ ” Link cried, deeply offended. He was a knight! Surely he hadn’t forgotten _everything_ about protocol and courtesy? “All they eat are bananas! What do they need table manners for?”

“You’re changing the subject,” Breen informed him. “I was talking about your table manners and yours alone.”

Link tried to wave her off with a huff, but _apparently,_ he always ate like he hadn’t seen food in weeks. The good-natured argument eventually faded, but the silence that remained was a much more comfortable one than earlier. He watched the weak moonlight flicker across the surface of Pico Pond with the breeze, content to stay silent and avoid dredging up painful memories and starting painful conversations.

But Breen couldn’t stay silent forever. She turned to him, and in a small voice, asked, “Do you think we’ll be okay?”

Link knew he was not included in that group, and the thought pulled at him. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you everything that happened,” he said. “But believe me when I say that leaving is the best thing I could do to help.”

Breen sighed, a quiet, defeated sound, and Link made a decision. He picked up the soldier’s spear from his gear at his feet and turned to her. “Take it,” he said, holding it out to her.

Breen’s eyes were wide. “I couldn’t possibly…I don’t know how to – “

Link cut her off firmly. “It’s not hard. Keep a firm grip on it and stab. It has a long enough reach that you can keep any enemies well away from you.” He felt an inkling of frustration when she still didn’t take it. It was _her_ spear in the first place. He couldn’t just walk off with it and keep a clean conscience. He sighed and switched tactics. “You need a weapon to defend yourself and your family. This is the best one you’ve got. Take it.”

He felt immeasurably guilty for taking advantage of her anxiety in that way, but he wanted to be done with this. He wanted to leave. He didn’t want to carry the weights of their lives on his shoulders.

Breen took the spear, an unreadable emotion swimming in her eyes. “Thank you for everything, Link,” she said quietly. Then she walked back toward the stable.

Link looked up at the sky, toward the sliver of a crescent moon rising over the treeline. Then he walked into the stable and collapsed on a bed, not even bothering to remove his greaves. Sleep called out to him like a siren song.

He fell asleep, but his sleep was troubled by nightmares. The red eye of the Yiga Clan, the red eye of Calamity Ganon, the red eye of the blood moon. His ears were full of horrific roaring and the screeching of gears, and his hands were covered in blood.

He’d been a fool, he realized bitterly at some point in the early morning, the third time he’d woken up. He’d been so sure that he would find some peace and solace in the Hebra Mountains, in the badlands, in shirking his duties.

But there would be no peace for him until he defeated the Calamity once and for all.


	4. The Underappreciated Art of Dying Conveniently

When Link woke up the next morning, Beedle was busy setting his massive pack down just outside the stable.

Beedle waved a greeting to Link as he stumbled outdoors. “Oh ho ho! We meet again! I swear, we must have been married in a past life.”

Link rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Possibly. Or maybe you’re just stalking me.”

Beedle snorted. “Nonsense. I have a set schedule I follow in my travels around Hyrule. I think that technically makes you my stalker!”

It was altogether too early in the morning for Beedle’s chipper merchant shtick, but Link chuckled anyway. It was always good to see him. Also, he was running low on arrows. “I thought I saw you on the road yesterday,” he said.

A flicker of consternation passed through Beedle’s eyes, but it was so quick he might have imagined it. “You know me,” Beedle said cheerily. “Sixth sense for danger and all that.”

Link gave him a suspicious look, but chose not to press the issue. He’d known Beedle to hide in the woods from enemies before. He was shockingly good at it for the size of his pack.

As Beedle began to set up his makeshift storefront, Link cast his gaze around the stable and rolled his shoulders. He hadn’t slept well last night, so he was stiff and sore all over. Even worse, it was only around eight in the morning and he could already tell the weather was going to be miserable. It was nice and sunny now, but the warmth and stillness of the morning air portended a stifling and oppressive heat later in the day. He narrowed his eyes in displeasure.

And maybe it was only Link’s imagination, but the air still seemed to be tense. Molo and Breen were treating him normally enough, but what if that was a front?

Kish was definitely still angry. When Link had dragged himself out of bed, the stable owner had shot him a glare and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Yiga magnet.” Great. This day was getting off to a _great_ start.

Link flopped down onto a seat by the cooking pot and rummaged through his bag of supplies for something to cook. He ended up dicing chunks of meat and Hylian shrooms, cooking them, and stabbing a skewer through them. The skewer was unseasoned, but at least it was hot and fresh from the pot.

Molo was reading a book across the pot from him. Breen was tending to the horses, and Kish was in the middle of some negotiations with Beedle. Link slumped a little when he saw Beedle pass a bundle of arrows to Kish. He knew that the stable dwellers were just going about their daily business, but it was hard not to feel like they were avoiding him.

He was lost in thought when Shamae interrupted him. “Mister Link!” she shouted. “Are you going to fight more guys today?”

Link swallowed, aware of the stable dwellers’ eyes on him. “Uh, I hope not.”

Shamae frowned. “Aw, man! But yesterday was awesome! You beat them up and Molo punched a guy in the face, then I got one in the head!” She enthusiastically mimed her actions in combat as she said them.

Link glanced at the bandage on Breen’s forehead. “It’s only awesome if no one gets hurt,” he said quietly.

Shamae was clearly disappointed, but she got distracted by a butterfly fluttering past her and wandered off. Link abruptly decided that he wanted to leave.

Link stomped back into the stable to retrieve his gear and then slapped a purple rupee onto the counter. It only covered half of his tab, but he figured he could return and pay the rest after the Calamity was gone. He stomped back out and went to Breen, who was tending to the horses. “Horse, please,” he demanded grumpily.

Breen eyed him with a frown. She looked like she was puzzling through several possible responses, which only irritated him more. “You should be nicer to the people taking care of your horse,” she said after a moment, trying and failing for some levity.

Link let out a sharp breath through his nose, and Breen relented, leading Princess out of his stall. He gave his horse a cursory pat on the nose and let him snuffle against his hand until Link pulled out an apple to feed him.

It was suffocating, being in a bad mood around people who may or may not be equally as irritated with him.

Link swung himself onto the white stallion and nudged him forward to the dirt road stretching south. Beedle glanced up at him as he passed and scrambled to his feet. “Link, wait!” he called. “I have to get to Wetland Stable by nightfall. I’ll go with you.”

Link grudgingly halted as Beedle gathered his wares up and slung his pack over his shoulders. The sidelong glances Kish, Ashe, Molo, and Breen were giving him prickled at the back of his neck. He twisted the reins in his fists in impatience.

Beedle caught up to him, and together they set out along the road. Part of Link wanted to be irritated at how slow he had to go for Beedle to keep up, but he had to admit that this was a nice change of pace. He had spent far too long alone in the wild, usually at a hard gallop or climbing all of the hills, trees, and mountains he possibly could. This slow, relaxed pace with a friend for company was welcome. He felt himself relax more and more as they got farther and farther away from the stable.

They reached the Thims Bridge, a simple wooden structure that spanned the Hylia River. Link had only crossed this bridge once before, when he had wanted to scout the Crenel Hills for shrines. It had also been a good vantage point to observe Hyrule Castle from afar.

Link sighed at unwelcome thoughts of the castle, and turned to Beedle instead. Whatever he had been about to say left his mind as he saw the vaguely ill look on Beedle’s face. “Uh, you all right there?” he asked, trying not to laugh.

“I looked over the edge,” he muttered.

Link snorted and glanced over the side of the bridge. “At least it’s a river and not a canyon. Hurts less if you fall.”

“Please do _not_ mention canyons to me,” came Beedle’s groan from behind him. “I had a very bad experience at Tanagar Canyon with a dragon.”

_Me too,_ Link was about to say, remembering his very poorly thought out attempts to shoot Dinraal’s horn. True to form, Revali had mocked him when he had finally resorted to calling up a gale. “Did one of your failed cooking experiments spit a fireball at you?” the Rito had asked snidely.

But Link’s lingering bad mood moved the conversation in another direction. “Seriously, I can’t believe you manage to be a traveling salesman with your fear of heights and monsters.”

“It’s why I’m not dead yet, obviously,” Beedle replied with good humor. “Not everyone can be as good at fighting as you. Especially not half-naked and armed with only a boko bow.”

Link cringed. Right. The first time he met Beedle, he had gone swimming in a river, only to find that bokoblins had stolen his clothes and gear. His plan to throw explosive barrels around their camp as revenge had gone very badly, and he accidentally lured monsters to a stable when he tried to buy arrows from Beedle. Also, Beedle had managed to cheat him out of a lot of rupees.

That was definitely not Link’s finest moment.

“Whatever,” he said rudely. Beedle only hooted with laughter.

By now, they had crested the rocky hill on the other side of the bridge. The rolling hills and plains of Hyrule Field stretched out before them, endlessly green, and the sky was a cloudless blue over their heads. If Link angled himself the right way, he could block out the Malice-infested castle and pretend that all was right in the world. Just him and his salesman buddy, palling around Hyrule.

While Link had been zoned out, Beedle had already started down the other side of the hill, looking a little wobbly under the weight of his pack. “My bugs aren’t going to deliver themselves to the stable, you know,” he called back.

Link nudged Princess into a trot to catch up. “What are you now, a bug delivery man?”

Beedle shook his head. “Lawdon wants to visit Gerudo Town, so he needs to brew some elixirs. I already tried explaining to him that he won’t be able to get in, but I don’t think he believes me…”

Link snickered. Maybe Lawdon knew the same trick he did. Then that absurd thought was replaced by a more serious question. “Do you do these sorts of special orders a lot?” Ashe’s lecture the night before had made him realize just how little he knew about how the way Hyrule’s economy currently functioned. He hadn’t really spent much time in towns or stables after he had woken up, and certainly hadn’t given much thought to how they managed to obtain all of their stuff.

“Only if it doesn’t conflict with my path around Hyrule,” said Beedle. “Most people who want special orders want them regularly delivered every few months or so, when I drop by their place again. I’ve got it worked out to where I pick up stuff from my suppliers in towns and unload it all at the next few stables before I hit the next town…”

Link had started to tune out, but not because he wasn’t interested. An uncomfortable feeling was settling in his gut. It felt sort of like indigestion, but more ominous. The feeling had been his constant companion for long enough that he knew there was an enemy around.

He nudged Princess to a halt, frowning uneasily. Some small noise to his left caught his attention. A pebble clattering against a larger stone, maybe.

Beedle glanced back at him with a question in his eyes. Link held a hand out to indicate he should stop, then got off the horse. There was a cluster of boulders to his left, just a little bit up the hill. Was there a Yiga spy hiding behind them? Link wouldn’t have been surprised.

He carefully picked his way up the hill, trying not to dislodge any dirt from the rocky hill. When he got to the cluster of boulders, he frowned. There was no one there. No sign that anything had been there recently. There was only the sound of the wind and Beedle fidgeting with his pack.

Now it sounded like papers were fluttering in the wind, Link realized absently half a moment before he heard a shout from behind him.

“For the bana – I mean, for the boss!”

Link spun around with a panicked shout and pulled out his demon carver, flailing his arm. The pommel of his demon carver smacked against a Yiga footsoldier’s mask.

The footsoldier flew sideways, skidding and rolling down the hill. Link jumped off the cluster of boulders before hitting the ground and rolling. He came up into a crouch and angled his demon carver at his attacker’s throat before he could teleport away.

“Agh, how _dare_ you – “ the footsoldier spluttered. Link only frowned. His voice, while still masculine, was switching between very deep and nasally high-pitched at random intervals. He tried to wriggle away, but Link pinned his arm down with his free hand. If he looked closer, he could see a fine crack spreading across the Yiga mask. Was the mask…how they disguised themselves as average travelers? Or how they teleported?

Beedle appeared next to them without his pack. “I know your voice,” he said in disbelief, pointing an accusing finger at the Yiga. “I’ve been selling you arrows!”

Link felt the footsoldier’s arm tense under his hand, and snarled, “Don’t.”

The footsoldier’s gaze whipped from Link to Beedle and back again. “Woodland Stable was a trial run,” he hissed. “Watch your back, Champion.”

Anger boiled in his blood. He leaned in close. “If you so much as touch anyone at that stable,” he threatened, “I will gladly go to your hideout and destroy your new leader all over again.”

The footsoldier was quiet at that.

“Go tell your friends that I’m not at the stable anymore,” Link said. He stood up, and the footsoldier scrambled to his feet and ran up the road in the direction Link and Beedle had come from, disappearing from view.

He glanced back at Beedle. The traveling salesman was pale and stared at the spot where the Yiga had disappeared. “I can’t believe he tried to kill you – “

“Did you know he was Yiga?” Link demanded.

Beedle flinched. “No. And I don’t _want_ to sell to them,” he added, a bit defensive. “I think a regular customer of mine at Kara Kara might be one of them. He buys way more arrows than any one guy needs. Just like you, huh?” he finished in an attempt at humor.

Link shook his head, disbelieving. “They’re _killers_.”

Beedle shrugged. “Well, everyone only thinks they’re crazy. Running around, telling people they want to kill the Hylian Champion, like he hasn’t been dead for a hundred years…”

Link clamped his mouth shut, miserable. He didn’t like being lumped in with the people trying to kill him. Come to think of it, he didn’t like being little more than a legend to the people of Hyrule. His life would be so much easier if everyone just _knew_ he was supposed to destroy the Calamity. Doing it all himself was overwhelming.

Beedle could not force another word out of him for the rest of the journey to the stable. _If your words show weakness, perhaps it’s wisest not to speak at all._ Who had said that to him? The phrase had the feel of a memory, the voice that spoke it faded and indistinct like a century-old painting. Link shook his head. Whoever had said it, the phrase had clearly done its job.

He didn’t realize they had reached the stable until a cold shadow fell over him. He glanced up, startled, only to see the building’s massive horse head looming above him. He hopped off the horse, dragging his hands over his face. He had to get it together. Poor Beedle probably had no idea what he’d done to make him so upset.

_Better outlook, Link._ This stable probably hadn’t been attacked by Yiga yet. It was surrounded by trees, so there was plentiful shade to beat the heat. No one here would be mad at him, except maybe Beedle.

Feeling a little bit better, he led Princess to a water trough and pulled out his own waterskin from a saddlebag. There was a man wearing a typical stable hat whacking away at a practice dummy only a few feet away from him. With a torch, no less.

“You mind?” Link muttered when the torch got dangerously close to Princess’ flank.

“I am Yolero, wielder of the legendary Master Torch,” the man said haughtily. “I do mind.”

“I think it’s a sword,” said Link with a heavy dose of irony.

Yolero stopped hitting the dummy and turned to Link with a frown. “What is?”

“You know. The Master Sword. The sword that seals the darkness. Blade of evil’s bane.” Link waved his hand vaguely. _The sword I’m supposed to have. Damn the Koroks._

Yolero scoffed. “My grandmother always told me it was a torch.”

_It’s only been a hundred years_ , Link thought with a strange mix of annoyance and sadness. _Surely his grandmother would have remembered stories about the Hylian Champion more accurately…_

Or maybe she had sanitized the stories for a young grandchild. Dinraal’s fire, was he just a _children’s story_ now?

Link shook it off with an irritated huff. This was getting ridiculous. “You’re fast, but try to control your swings better,” he advised Yolero. “You’re leaving yourself wide open.”

Yolero blinked at the unsolicited advice, then thanked him hesitantly. Link only nodded, then went to go find Beedle.

He found himself standing before Beedle’s pack, scrambling around in his mind for the proper words to say. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out after an uncomfortable few seconds. Beedle shot him a quizzical glance.

“I’m sorry I just stopped talking to you earlier,” Link clarified, bringing a hand to the back of his head in embarrassment. “I…I’m not good at talking to people. And I don’t like the Yiga Clan.”

“I can tell,” Beedle said dryly. Link panicked for a moment at the stillness of his expression. Goddess, had he actually really hurt Beedle’s feelings?

Then Beedle’s face split into a smile. “Gotcha!” he hooted. “I know you’re bad at talking to people. Your strengths lay outside the realm of social interaction. That’s what I’m here for!” He winked.

Link breathed a sigh of relief and grinned. “In that case, can I buy some arrows? I have some more monster parts for you.”

Hylia bless Beedle. He was the one who deserved to be a legend.

And it wasn’t the end of the world that Beedle sold arrows to a guy who may or may not have been Yiga. Right? He had to remember the root problem. _The Calamity_.

This new pensive mood was how Link found himself seated on a crate at sunset, studying Hyrule Castle for the first time in a month. He did not shy away from taking in the crumbling spires and the magenta swirls of malice that choked the castle grounds, just as visible in the encroaching dusk as in broad daylight. This felt like progress, he thought, self-satisfied. Maybe next time he could forget about his disastrous last visit to the castle long enough to defeat the Calamity. He would have to.

_Okay, Link. What’s step one?_

Step one was to visit Gerudo Town. Riju would know more about what was happening with the Yiga.

Step two: infiltrate the Yiga Clan’s hideout. And maybe, if he was lucky, he could somehow… Well, he wasn’t sure exactly how he could stop them, at least temporarily, but he could figure it out.

Step three: protect the towns and stables. That… Link didn’t really have any idea how to do that.

Step four: Defeat the Calamity. That was the most daunting step of all.

Well. Step one was good enough for now.

Without sparing another look back at the stable, he got on Princess and galloped down the road.

It had been nice taking it easy earlier in the day, but he couldn’t deny that he loved the wind tearing through his hair and Princess’s mane, the steady rolling gait of his horse, and how the wilds scrolled by under the last traces of orange, pink and lavender in the evening sky.

The Lanayru Wetlands and their ruins passed by on his left, then soon enough he reached Eagus Bridge. He grinned, exulting in the thrill of riding _fast_. He almost felt like he and his horse were soaring across Hyrule Field. He would have to give extra apples to Princess when they stopped.

They skirted the Great Plateau, faint moonlight illuminating the sheer cliff face. Before long, Link was facing the Gerudo Highlands and their orange steppes turned silver by the nighttime. He was almost at the Digdogg Suspension Bridge.

As he came to the top of the gentle hill before the bridge, he slowed Princess to a halt and cursed. Some moblins had set up camp right next to the bridge, and although they were sleeping now, they would be woken up by a horse passing by. What was more, a red wizzrobe was prancing around above the burnt husk of a house nearby.

“Ugh,” Link muttered. He was not in the mood for fighting, but that wizzrobe would definitely wake the moblins if he tried to pass by. Maybe with a well-placed ice arrow and a bit of luck he could sneak past the moblins…

He swung himself off the stallion and took out his duplex bow. He pulled an ice arrow out of his quiver and kneeled in the grass. The wizzrobe was still busy looking like an idiot as Link inched his way closer. Finally, he had a semi-clear shot.

_This first shot has to work._ “No pressure,” he muttered to himself.

He pulled the string back and let his hand come to its comfortable anchor point against his jaw. Wizzrobes were stupid. Stupid, and annoying. If it would just stop moving _for one Goddess-cursed second_ …

_There._ He aimed carefully and released. The wizzrobe shrieked and dissolved in a cloud of icy mist. Link ran back down the slope to Princess and vaulted on, hissing, “Let’s go.”

They galloped up the road. Moblins in the camp startled awake and went for their clubs, but they were too slow to catch him, even as they gave chase. “Ha, suckers!” Link shouted after them.

Then the moblins stopped. Link frowned at the sudden halt, then shrugged. He turned back around in the saddle.

He found himself about to collide with a recently awakened hinox.

“Shit!” Link yelped, yanking the reins to the side to get Princess out of the way. He scrambled off the horse while he tried to unsheathe his demon carver. The hinox just blinked at him. Then tried to sit on him.

Link barely threw himself out of the way. Gasping, he hacked at the monster’s leg a few times. He whirled out of the way as the hinox tried to swat at him, but now he was facing away from the hinox and he could see the water far below him. Some strange feeling was taking over, somehow familiar yet disorienting. There was something at the edge of his memory, with the hinox and the water, at the tip of his tongue –

It suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks. The moonlight gleaming off the Regencia River –

_The moonlight gleaming off of Ralis Pond –_

//||\\\

 

“There’s a hinox at Ralis Pond!” Bazz shouted.

Link squinted at the little Zora. “So?”

“So we should fight it!” Bazz pumped his fist in the air, and Rivan and Gaddison bounced around in excitement.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Link said, with all of the dignity and conviction he could muster from his young age.

Rivan shoved his way in front of Bazz with a pout. “Aw, why not, Link? You taught us how to fight!”

“I’m _nine_ ,” Link pointed out sagely.

“You beat that soldier in a fight yesterday,” Gaddison replied in a quiet voice.

“Only cause he didn’t try,” Link blustered, secretly pleased at the mention of his victory. “No one wants to beat up a kid.”

“Right, so that hinox won’t want to hit us!” Bazz shouted.

Link frowned. “Don’t think that’s how that works.”

“And how would you know, Mr. I’ve-never-seen-a-monster-in-real-life?” Rivan retorted, poking him in the back.

“Hey, ow,” Link muttered. “My dad is a knight and he fights monsters. Of course I would know.”

“Would _not_ ,” Bazz scoffed. “When do you even talk to him? You spend too much time with Kodah.”

“Do _not_ ,” Link snapped, just as Gaddison rolled her eyes.

“Link doesn’t even spend that much time with her,” she said. She was much less riled up than the other two Zoras. “You guys aren’t making sense. Boys are dumb.”

“Fight me, Gaddison!” Rivan was yelling, but Link was no longer invested in that conflict. He had just remembered that his father had told him to corral all the Zora kids back to their pools if it got late. And, judging by the fact that he could see the moon over the cliffs of Zora’s Domain, it was very late indeed.

“Aw, man,” Link groaned, head in his hands. “My dad’s going to kill me.”

When he looked up, the Zoras were gone. Link whirled around, heart pounding, scanning the waterways of the Domain. There, at the very end, he saw the three kids running off. “The Big Bad Bazz Brigade rides again!” Bazz yelled.

“No, you don’t, not without me!” Link shouted back, but it was too late. By the time he made it to the upper level of the Domain, he had lost them.

He cast his gaze around wildly. What would he do if they actually tried to fight the hinox? He didn’t have weapons! The Big Bad Bazz Brigade didn’t have weapons! His dad would kill him! He would never get to be a knight of Hyrule!

Completely at a loss, he brightened when he saw Kodah over by the inn. “Kodah, Kodah, Kodah!” he shouted, using up all of his breath.

The red-finned Zora turned to him, startled. “What’s wrong, Linny?”

Link couldn’t even spare the effort to be annoyed by the nickname. “Big Bad – Bazz Brigade? There’s a hinox – Ralis Pond – no swords – “ He bent over, hands on his knees, out of breath and a little bit panicky.

Kodah frowned. “I did see them run past, yelling like a lizalfos was chasing them. I hope they’re not trying to get into trouble.”

That was Kodah for you. Always the practical and mature one. Link was always privately worried that she would look down on him for hanging out with the little hooligans of the Big Bad Bazz Brigade, but she never did.

But now was not the time for thinking! “I’m more worried about myself!” Link called over his shoulder as he dashed for the bridge connecting the Domain with the cliffs surrounding it.

The gentle glow of the Domain’s luminous stones under moonlight usually mesmerized Link, but he was on a mission. The Brigade had a head start and an advantage, what with the water everywhere. He had gotten pretty good at splashing around in the almost two years his father had been stationed here, but he was no Zora.

Wait – there! Leaning up against the side of the bridge, in a little alcove next to a crate, was an abandoned silver sword. Link snatched it up, almost tripping over himself, and kept running. He ducked and weaved around the strange, luminescent plants growing on the cliff. His footsteps squelched in the grass, the morning’s rain doing its part to slow him down.

Ahead of him, next to a small pond, he could see a hinox getting to its feet and blinking blearily. Three small Zoras ran around it, dodging its line of sight.

Link’s heart jumped in his throat. Had he been that stupid when he was younger?

He was around twenty feet away from the hinox now. Before he knew what he was doing, he yelled, “Hey! Over here!”

The hinox’s gaze inched its way over to him. The hinox was very blue. And very, very big. Link swallowed.

The hinox took a great, lumbering step toward him. The earth shook when its foot hit the ground. Link held the silver sword before him, doing his best to ignore how the point of the sword wobbled.

The hinox raised an arm, and Link’s muscles tensed, ready to jump out of the way –

“Ya dumb monster! You’re as fat as King Dorephan!”

Link could only blink for a second. The hinox was just as confused, turning back around to face the source of the shout. Gaddison was smacking Rivan’s shoulder, exclaiming, “You can’t say that about the king! That’s mean!”

Then the hinox’s shadow fell over them, and their eyes widened. Bazz tried to pull them out of the way, but they were nearly trapped against a rock face.

Link let loose his best imitation of a battle cry and charged at the hinox. He slashed at the back of its legs, but now the hinox was turning and he was losing that good angle. He ducked under a swipe of its hand and stabbed right under its knee. The hinox howled in pain, a loud, monstrous sound that jarred Link right out of his focus. He didn’t realize the hinox was about to sit on him until a small Zora hand grabbed his and yanked him out of the way.

He stared in disbelief at the spot he had just been, now flattened by the hinox. “You’re welcome,” Gaddison squeaked, before beating a hasty retreat back to the bush the Big Bad Bazz Brigade was hiding behind.

Link ran forward again, able to slash at the monster while it was attempting to get back up. He noted with a fierce pride that he had done some serious damage to one of its legs.

He was interrupted again by a cry of, “Link!” coming from behind him.

Link whirled around on reflex to see a red-finned Zora with a gleaming trident sprinting right for the hinox. He watched in awe as Princess Mipha of the Zora gracefully launched herself into the air and drove the Lightscale Trident right into the hinox’s eye.

The hinox staggered back, clutching at its eye, but Mipha was too fast. She had wrenched the trident out of its eye and vaulted away before it could even come close to touching her. Thinking fast, Link hollered at the hinox, drawing its attention to him.

As it was distracted, Mipha sprinted around to the back of the hinox and, in a quick series of blows, brought it to its knees. With a final, decisive blow to the back of the neck, the hinox slumped forward, now motionless. Link watched thick, black blood ooze out of the hinox’s eye and legs, horrified and fascinated despite himself.

Mipha emerged from behind the monster’s corpse, somehow unscathed. She smiled. “Thank you for your help, Link.”

Link could not think of what to say for a second. Then he blurted, “Thank Gaddison! Gaddison saved me!”

“That’s right!” Rivan added from behind the bush. “She’s a real heroine!”

Mipha turned to where the members of the Big Bad Bazz Brigade were creeping out from behind the bush, matching sheepish and scared expressions on their faces. “Then I thank you for your help as well, Gaddison,” she said, that gentle smile still in her voice. How did Mipha manage to be so nice all the time? It was a complete mystery to Link, who was tired, sore, and cranky now that the adrenaline was leaving his system.

Then another set of running footsteps sounded behind him, heavier than Mipha’s. Link froze, pulse pounding. He recognized those footsteps.

He slowly turned around and came face to face with his father.

He was still wearing his knight’s armor, although his helmet was tucked under his arm. The expression on his face scared Link. It was a cross between anger, impatience, and fear that he had never seen before. “Link,” he began gravely.

Link bowed his head, terrified of the inevitable lecture he was going to get. “I’m sorry, dad, I – “

“You know that all of you need to stay together in the Domain when I’m in meetings with the Zora guard. I was specific about what time I expected you and your friends to be in bed by, wasn’t I?” His father sounded more tired than anything else.

“Sunset,” Link managed, willing the shameful tears away from his eyes. It was all his fault…

Bazz crept forward into Link’s peripheral vision, startling him. “I’m sorry, sir, it’s all my fault! I wanted to fight the hinox, and I’m the leader of the Brigade, so they all listened to me…”

Link’s head jerked up in surprise at Bazz’s defense. For some reason, faint amusement flickered in his father’s eyes for a moment, then it was eclipsed by the old, tired anger. “Just be grateful that Princess Mipha was here to save your sorry behinds.” He turned to her and bowed. “I can’t thank you enough, Highness.”

Mipha smiled, bringing the tip of her trident down to the ground in a relaxed stance. “If you would like, Sir Rossin, you may return to your meeting. I can bring the children back.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded, sending Link one last reproachful glance. Then he turned and jogged back to the Domain.

Link watched his shiny armor dwindle into the distance, miserable. To his surprise, Mipha laid a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Kodah came to find me as soon as you left. I explained to your father that you were only trying to save them. He won’t be angry for long.”

“Thank you, Princess,” he said glumly, unable to feel very optimistic about that.

“It’s all our fault, Princess!” Rivan yelled, Bazz and Gaddison looking suitably regretful behind him. “We thought we could fight it, but then Link did all the work!”

“Link did all the work?” Mipha echoed with a surprising amount of indignation. “But I killed the beast!”

“It was mostly Princess Mipha,” Link admitted, not even ashamed to say it in the face of her extraordinary prowess with the Lightscale Trident.

As the laughter of the Zora princess and children rose into the night, Link made a private resolution.

If his dad ever let him become a knight, he would train with both the sword _and_ the spear.

 

//||\\\

 

He blinked, and he was facing the Regencia River again. The world was covered in a haze of red, and Link was briefly terrified – had he somehow miscounted the days? Was it already the blood moon again? – but then he realized what was happening.

Daruk was back! Link turned around to see the Goron’s ethereal, red form holding up the barrier. “Welcome back, little guy!” Daruk exclaimed, but Link didn’t miss the trace of worry in his voice.

“Sorry, I don’t know what got into me – “ Link babbled. He must have instinctively summoned the barrier while he was zoned out.

“It’s alright, I just took a few hits – “ Daruk pushed his arms out with a grunt, countering the hinox’s strike and leaving the monster off-balance and reeling. Daruk and his barrier fizzled out as he expended the last of the energy keeping him with Link.

Link did not waste the opportunity to dart around the hinox. But he was still reeling from the memory – Bazz, Mipha, _his father_ – and he somehow found himself trapped between the edge of the natural platform and the hinox.

Then something hit his side with the force of a flying, massive boulder, and the world spun around him. He landed with a bone-jarring thud that forced the breath out of his lungs.

Everything went black.

Then he opened his eyes, crying out in pain, and saw Mipha. Everything came back to him in a rush. The hinox, the _memory_ –

He ignored the pain seizing his chest and propped himself up on one arm. Mipha frowned, but he blurted, “I remember!”

Mipha’s hand hovered above his chest, confusion warring with faint hope in her eyes. “What do you remember?”

“I remember, Mipha!” He felt his face break into a broad grin. “That time Bazz, Rivan, and Gaddison wanted to fight a hinox and I chased them and you saved our lives – “ A sharp twinge in his side cut him off, but it couldn’t put a damper on his excitement or the joy that was slowly spreading across Mipha’s face.

“Then why are you having a harder time beating a hinox now than when you were nine years old?” she teased. “Come on. I believe in you.”

Link laughed, half in disbelief and half in delight. “I’m so happy, Mipha – “

Her form had faded and vanished, but Link’s joy did not go away. He jumped to his feet and charged at the hinox, roaring a battle cry. He remembered! He remembered something about his father, about his childhood friends, about his dear friend and fellow Champion Mipha.

Link hardly noticed when the steel of the demon carver fractured and splintered against the tough hide of the hinox, or when his arrow pierced the monster’s eye, or when it finally died and dissipated in a swirl of magenta smoke. The hinox had been carrying a royal broadsword around its neck, and Link picked it up to replace the demon carver he had lost. Not even the remarkably foul-smelling blood and guts of the hinox could bring him down.

He had been so convinced for so long that all he would ever have of his past life were scattered fragments, diaries, and hearsay. An uncomfortable proportion of his memories involved Princess Zelda being rude to him. He had given up on anything more, much less anything more revealing.

And now his father had a face and a name. _Sir Rossin._ A tall, broad, dark-haired man with intense blue eyes and a nose slightly crooked from where it had been broken before. Link could only assume he took more after his mother.

And maybe he would remember his mother soon! He had no idea why he had begun to remember now, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Poor Princess was still huddled by the edge of the bridge, tossing his head nervously. “It’s okay, horse,” Link laughed as he patted his nose and pulled an apple out of a saddlebag.

 

Soon enough, they were back on the road, flying through Gerudo Canyon. Link hadn’t felt this optimistic in ages.


	5. The Noble Pursuit of Something to Drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! I am now officially caught up to where I'm at on ff.net, so updates will be slower from here on out. Finals season coming up and all that.

It was _hot_ in the Gerudo Desert.

Well, of _course_ it was, Link reflected crankily. He wasn’t stupid. He always knew that the desert was hot. He always tried to steel himself. But somehow, he never quite remembered exactly how terrible the heat was.

Even with the protection of the sapphire circlet or the airy freedom he felt when he wore his Gerudo disguise, sand scoured every exposed inch of his skin. Sweat trickled down his forehead and into the collar of any armor he wore. The glaring sun burned his skin to an angry red crisp.

And then the lizalfos. Always with the Goddess-cursed lizalfos. All he’d wanted was to shoot a voltfruit off the top of a cactus, but suddenly one of the stupid electric ones had exploded out of the sand, disturbed by his arrow. What with the sand constantly shifting under his feet, harsh sunlight glaring off the yellow dunes and into his eyes, and the near-constant electric pulses from the lizalfos, combat was an exercise in frustration.

He trudged away from that fight with little but a lizalfos talon, a broken lizal boomerang, a bruised voltfruit, and a gash on his arm to show for it. He tore a strip from a spare cloth he carried and tied it around the wound as tightly as he could with one hand and his teeth. The adrenaline from combat was wearing off, and the wound was starting to throb in time with his pulse. Link gritted his teeth and looked ahead. He was almost to Gerudo Town. The walls were visible behind the shimmer of a heat wave. He could properly deal with the cut there. He only needed to avoid another fight.

As he made his way through the desert, a large rock caught his eye at the edge of the poorly defined road, if it could even be called a road. He glanced over his shoulder. There was no one within a half-mile of him. It was late afternoon, and most everyone who traveled in the desert did so before noon. Like he should have done instead of riding all night and sleeping at Gerudo Canyon Stable until two in the afternoon, he internally grumbled.

Yet another thing to add to the list of poor decisions Link had made in recent memory.

But at least the emptiness of the desert at this time of day made it easier for him to change into his disguise behind the rock. He stripped off his tunic and greaves and folded them neatly, placing them into his bag of supplies. Out came the Gerudo veil, top, and sirwal. They did feel better, he admitted. The thin silk garments didn’t chafe against his skin with sweat, and the bandage over his arm was less in danger of being pulled at and shifted around. He’d long since gotten past whatever embarrassment he may have initially felt at having to dress as a woman to get into Gerudo Town. These clothes were too comfortable for that.

Finally, _finally_ , he was at the gates of the town. The two guards straightened as he approached. As if he didn’t need a reminder that pretty much every Gerudo was at least a foot taller than him.

“Vasaaq, Zelda,” one of the guards greeted him.

Oh, Goddess. He always forgot that that was the name he had given everyone in Gerudo Town. Someone had asked him on his first day there, he’d panicked and blurted out the first female name that had come to him, and then he’d had to stick with it. It was mortifying.

Still embarrassed, he tried in vain to search through his memory for the proper phrase. “Sav’orr…?” he tried.

“I think you’re looking for sav’saaba,” the other guard informed him in her accented Hylian. “Good evening, not good night.”

“Right,” he muttered, realizing too late that he had to try harder to make his voice higher pitched. He was fortunate that he was small enough to pass as a Hylian woman, but these Gerudo were scary and he didn’t want to get caught…

“Sarqso,” he said with more confidence. That one he remembered.

The Gerudo guards nodded, impassive as ever. What, no appreciation for his attempt to be polite? Typical.

He passed under the arch and into the town. It was like he’d warped to an entirely different place. No longer was he suffocated by the grit and heat in the desert air. He dimly remembered a shopkeeper explaining that Gerudo Town had been built on the site of an oasis, and that water circulating around the city walls kept the area cooler, if still comfortably warm.

The main market of the city had not died down yet; if anything, dinnertime made it busier. The air was filled with shouts, chatter, and laughter, as merchants hawked their wares and women from all over Hyrule came to admire them. Everywhere he looked were splashes of bright color: on tapestries that hung from stone walls, on the awnings over storefronts, in the geometric patterns of the Gerudo clothes everywhere. Somewhere, someone was roasting meat and vegetables with traditional Gerudo spices, and the warm, rich smell made Link’s stomach rumble.

He made a beeline for the communal cooking pots, right across from Spera’s stall. The merchant eyed him with poorly disguised enthusiasm. Oh, _great_ , Link realized with a sinking stomach. He’d sold all of his monster parts to Beedle. He had nothing more than a couple of lizalfos talons left for the Gerudo merchants. They would tear him to shreds.

Link made a point of avoiding eye contact as he rummaged through his bag for something to cook. He pushed aside the bomb arrows, the Korok seeds, the chunk of ore he was saving for one of the fairies. Panic began to set in.

Where was his _food?_ Had he already eaten it all?

Link grimaced, took a deep breath, and turned around. Spera had her chin propped up on her hand.

“Sav’saaba,” she chirped. “My, my, have you not eaten yet today?”

Link sighed, and at length said, “Uh, no.”

Spera’s grin gleamed like the blade of a scimitar. “I always do worry about you tiny vai from other places. Need something to cook with?”

“ _Stop_ it, Spera!” someone shouted from behind Link. “We agreed to split the monster parts!”

Link realized too late that his eyes had gone wide. How was he going to tell them? Were they going to convene some sort of war band and go beat up Beedle? Or worse, beat up Link?

He risked a glance over his shoulder to see Ardin, the mushroom seller, with her hands planted on her hips.

“Shut up, Ardin,” Spera snarled. “We all know you lie about where you get your mushrooms.”

“A deal’s a deal,” Ardin retorted. “You have to – wait, what do you mean I’m a liar? I am not!” She shoved past Link so that she could jab a finger in Spera’s face.

“Ladies, please,” Link muttered. As was typical, the Gerudo merchants paid no attention to him.

“I told you that I was going to start a line of skincare products with those parts,” Ardin was shouting. “Let me have this!”

“Oh, sure, you’re going to grind up some mushrooms and lizalfos talons and pray to the Heroines that it doesn’t give you a horrific rash!” Spera flicked her hand dismissively. “And what are you going to do when you run out of mushrooms like you always do, sell lizal powder featuring your rare, mysterious, _invisible_ mushrooms?”

“Seven sands, Spera, the invisible mushrooms are just a joke, no one _actually_ believes that I sell those – “

Their argument was interrupted by a commotion from the gates of the city. Link heard aggressive shouts and the metallic clanking of weapons and shields. He peered around the merchants, curious.

A group of Gerudo soldiers was pushing their way through the crowd that was quickly forming around them. “Out of the way!” Captain Teake bellowed from the front of the group, pushing unfortunate passersby aside with her shield.

The captain was limping, Link realized. As she passed by him, he could see bloodstained bandages binding her leg. And other soldiers weren’t so lucky. Behind Teake, several of them were being carried on makeshift stretchers.

The soldiers made it to the barracks, and the crowd went back to normal, although a nervous tension still buzzed in the air. He briefly wondered what had happened. The soldiers couldn’t have been fighting a molduga. Their wounds were definitely the result of blades, but lizalfos rarely gave Gerudo soldiers that much trouble. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he could guess exactly what had done so much damage to the soldiers.

Link cast a quizzical glance at Ardin and Spera. Spera muttered, “This has been happening for a while.”

“Those damn bandits,” Ardin added, spitting on the ground.

Of _course_. It always had to be the Yiga Clan, didn’t it? Because nothing could ever be easy for Link.

While Spera was too distracted by being angry at the Yiga to bug him about his monster parts, Link bought rice and some spices and whipped up a quick, simple meal. He scarfed it down and escaped to the Arrow Specialty Shop, eager to speak to the one merchant who wouldn’t demand he sell things to them.

The elderly Gerudo woman Danda reclined behind the counter of the arrow shop, eyeing him as he approached.

“Sav’saaba…” she grunted as she pushed herself up into a better position. “Your reputation precedes you. I assume you have monster parts to sell me.”

Blunt and to the point. Link couldn’t decide if he liked that or not. “Not so much,” he said, dragging the words out over several seconds. “Don’t tell the others, though.”

Danda raised an eyebrow. “I see,” she said flatly.

“Hey!” a woman shouted from behind him. Link turned to see Isha stalking toward the booth, tailed by a cohort of angry shop owners. Link felt his stomach drop to his feet. This couldn’t possibly end well. He had an informal agreement with the merchants of Gerudo Town: the merchants decided one person Link would sell to, and they would work out any issues about who wanted what amongst themselves. Link racked his brain for what they had agreed on the last time. With a sinking feeling, he realized that he _hadn’t_ made an agreement with anyone, and now they would all fight about it.

Isha jabbed him in the chest, and he almost wobbled. “I thought you were going to sell your stuff to me!”

“Whoa,” the fruit seller Lorn objected. “I thought we had a deal?”

Estan the butcher shoved her way to the front of the group. “Isha had a deal with me!” She cast a doubtful glance at Isha. “Didn’t we?”

Isha sighed. “Ladies, please.” She thought for a second, then smiled. “I know where we can work this out.” She pointed in the direction of – Oh. Link couldn’t see. Lorn was in the way.

Then Spera grabbed Link by the arm, forcibly dragging him away from Danda and her arrows. Link grumbled. Really? Was it too much to ask for him to buy her entire stock of bomb arrows? He hesitated to resist or even to speak too much, in case they got too handsy and realized that he wasn’t a vai.

“Looks like you lose again, Danda,” Isha teased with a flick of her hand.

Danda grunted, unimpressed. “Who really loses when Zelda will come by later and buy up my entire stock and no one else’s?”

Isha’s smile turned to a scowl for a second, then she was grabbing Link’s other arm and helping Spera pull him away. Link groaned. When had the Gerudo merchants gotten so competitive about his stuff? Weren’t there other adventurers with bones to sell them?

Link eventually realized that they were headed to the Noble Canteen, and his heart sank. There was no way this wouldn’t end badly. He needed to avoid any drinking if he was to get out of this with his dignity intact.

As soon as they entered, the bartender Furosa shouted out a greeting, and the group of Gerudo women surrounding him cheered.

“What do you think, little vai?” Estan asked as she peered down at him, then cracked a grin. “I’ll buy you a drink if you sell me your ore.”

Link did not know how to respond to that. The merchants were all staring at him expectantly, and he was made uncomfortably aware that although his swordsmanship was the stuff of legends, these Gerudo could still beat the living daylights out of him.

“Um,” he began, very ineloquently, “I have some bad news for all of you.”

He had ridden through a vicious sandstorm, withstood the heat of an active volcano, swam through freezing water, and soared thousands of feet above the ground to appease the massive Divine Beasts. He had faced vicious lynels and the deadly beams of the ancient, terrifying Guardians. He had destroyed the corrupted malice of Ganon itself, in the forms of the horrifying Blights. The expressions on the faces of the Gerudo merchants should _not_ have scared him as much as they did.

“I only have, like, three lizalfos talons,” said Link.

Isha’s eyes narrowed. “Total?”

“Total,” Link confirmed, wishing he could sink into the floor.

Isha peered at him for a second, irritated, before she declared, “Well, this has been a waste of time.” Estan rolled her eyes and moved to the bar. The rest of the merchants followed.

Link sagged in relief. It was good to know that they were not as violent as he’d feared.

One of the bar’s patrons was watching him, Link abruptly realized. She was unfamiliar, but clearly a resident of Gerudo Town. “What?” he asked.

She shook her head. “You’re too young for them to be buying you drinks, aren’t you?”

An unexpected burst of indignation erupted in him. Screw not having a drink. This was a matter of _principle_. “I am one hundred and nineteen years old,” he said defiantly, straining to keep his voice high.

The woman leaned against the wall, nursing her drink. “Sure,” she said with a healthy dose of skepticism.

But he was! It didn’t matter if she thought he was lying. He had been nineteen before Calamity Ganon’s arrival, he knew that. And it was now one hundred years later. Actually, when was his birthday? It had been close to a year since he awoke in the Shrine of Resurrection. He might be twenty by now. Or one hundred and twenty.

After a few seconds of staring at the wall with a frown, he realized that the Gerudo merchants were now entirely leaving him alone, busy drinking their Noble Pursuits. The usual patrons of the bar were busy gossiping in the corner, and Furosa was pouring out more drinks for the merchants. They were all Gerudo, except for one woman at the very end of the bar. She was Hylian, dressed in dull, nondescript traveling clothes, with a sort of fidgety energy about her. Her eyes kept flicking around nervously. Link tilted his head as he watched her.

Then she turned and their eyes met. Link quickly looked away, but her eyes had already narrowed. That was…suspicious. If the Yiga Clan had the daring to attack Gerudo patrols, there was no telling what their spies could be doing.

_Come on, Link. Not everyone is Yiga just because every monster in Hyrule wants to kill you._

Link plopped down in a chair. That was true. He needed to relax. But the Hylian woman did not stop acting shifty. She wasn’t drinking anything, either. Despite himself, he almost felt like the air around him was thicker with tension.

After several minutes, the woman got up to leave, but not before shooting a pointed look at him. Did she…want him to follow? Link shrugged. It was probably a bad idea, but he could defend himself.

He waited until she left, then crept out the door after her. None of the Gerudo merchants who had accosted him earlier noticed. The woman was headed for one of the sand seal rental stalls – a good way to leave the town with less scrutiny. There were many more guards at the main entrances than at the stalls.

He _knew_ this lady was bad news. He felt it in his gut. He didn’t think it was heat exhaustion talking. She rounded the corner and walked into the stall, and Link took a step to follow her –

A hand clapped onto his shoulder. Link whirled around, half-formed excuses trying to tumble out of his mouth.

The Gerudo soldier who had stopped him raised her hands in a placating gesture. Link recognized her after a brief second as Captain Teake. “Seven sands, calm down. I’ve been sent by Buliara to find you and bring you to the chief.”

Link groaned. “I was kind of in the middle of something…”

Teake sighed, unconvinced. She only said, “Let’s go.”

After a few tense moments, Link ventured to ask, “It was the Yiga Clan that attacked you today, wasn’t it?”

Teake pursed her lips. The bandages on her leg had been changed recently, but she was still limping. She was paler than usual. At length, she tersely said, “Ask the chief when you speak to her.”

A sore point, then. Link awkwardly dropped the subject.

They reached the steps of the palace after a couple of minutes. The captain halted at the bottom of the steps and said, “You know, little vai, my offer still stands. Come join our forces after you finish that mission of yours.” Her tone was light, but the look in her eyes was strained and almost a little desperate.

Link hesitated for a second before mock saluting with an ironic smile behind his veil. “I’ll consider it, Captain.” Teake only nodded and set out back to the barracks.

Hylia, what was with all these Gerudo calling him little vai? He got that it was probably some endearing nickname, but… He wouldn’t be surprised if there had been people in his past who had teased him for being so short.

He reached the top of the stairs, and Buliara slammed the tip of her golden claymore into the ground, shouting, “Who wishes to speak with Chief Makeela Riju at this hour? Identify yourself!”

Now that Link knew how much Buliara cared for Riju, she was no longer nearly as intimidating. He grinned. “It’s, uh, Zelda.”

Riju shot him a knowing smirk from her place on the throne. “It’s about time,” she said, feigning anger and slamming a fist on the throne’s armrest. “How dare you keep me waiting this long?”

Link laughed, then realized that Riju had probably been in meetings all day due to the attack. The smile dropped off his face. “Look,” he said, “I’ve got some stuff to tell you about the Yiga Clan, and it’s pretty late, so I think we should get down to business first.” His desire to make a stupid seal pun that would make Riju laugh could wait.

Riju’s expression was more serious now as she nodded. “Buliara, I would like to speak with Zelda alone in my quarters.” Her tone of voice brooked no argument.

Buliara looked unhappy, but said nothing. Riju hopped off her throne in an undignified manner that perfectly fit her age. She pointed to her room, and Link followed.

Link cast his gaze around the chief’s room, trying to pretend like he hadn’t been in here before. It was roomy, but still managed to seem cozy and warm. It was probably because of all the stuffed sand seals everywhere.

Riju collapsed onto her bed, letting out a great sigh. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m tired, and I wanted to talk to someone.”

Link raised an eyebrow. “Is that the only reason you had Captain Teake drag me here?”

Riju shot a glance at him. “Of course not,” she replied primly. “I do have important matters to discuss with you. I just already spent the whole day talking about it to Buliara…and you know how she gets.”

Link chuckled. “Yeah.” No matter how much Riju looked up to Buliara, she had done enough complaining about her bodyguard to fill several books. “So what’s up?”

Riju gave him a long, evaluating look. Link stilled under her scrutiny, suddenly suspicious. “The Yiga Clan has been acting up again,” she said after a moment.

“I saw the soldiers earlier today,” Link said, even as his blood ran cold. She knew that they were after him. Did she blame him for the injuries her soldiers had gotten while fighting against the Yiga?

“I don’t blame you,” she said with a sigh, almost as if she read his mind. “I was just wondering if you knew why they’re more active now.”

Link sat down on her bed, then flopped on his back and stared at the ceiling. Something told him Riju wouldn’t mind. He debated how much to tell her for a moment, then realized that Riju was one of the few people in Hyrule he felt comfortable enough around to be honest with. It would be a shame to waste that. “It’s been almost a year since I woke up in the Shrine of Resurrection. I think it’s been about six months since I defeated Master Kohga and freed Vah Naboris. I’ve been taking too long.”

“With what?”

“Defeating Calamity Ganon. If I can just do that, then, you know – “ Link waved his hand in frustration. “They won’t have a reason to exist anymore.”

“Other than to kill you and make my life difficult,” Riju said dryly.

Link let out a faint laugh. “True. What exactly have the Yiga been getting up to, besides today?”

He heard the covers on the bed rustling as the young Gerudo shifted her position. “They’ve been ambushing patrols out in the desert, mostly near the northern ruins. But they haven’t gotten much closer to us than that. I don’t understand it,” she mused. “Buliara thinks they must have a spy in the town that relays troop movements. Why else would they be holding back from attacking the town itself?”

Link nodded, grim. “I think I may have found who it was. She escaped, though.”

Riju sighed. “At least she’s gone. I don’t know what else I could have done. I’m sure that if we had captured her she would have warped away anyway.”

“Maybe not,” Link said, sitting up as he recalled his encounter with the Yiga footsoldier the day before. “I think their masks are what let them disguise their voice and appearance. I broke this one guy’s mask and his voice went all weird. Also, he couldn’t warp away, I don’t think.”

Riju digested this new information, a thoughtful expression on her face. “That’s good to know. Not all of our soldiers made it back, you know. A few of them had to be left at Kara Kara thanks to their injuries.”

Guilt crashed over him like a wave as he flopped back down onto the bed. If only he’d managed to stop the Calamity the first time he’d tried. Or the second. If only… Those thoughts weren’t helpful. They would drag him deep into a mire of shame and sadness.

“The spy I was talking about earlier. She was a Hylian woman at the Noble Canteen,” Link said, trying to be helpful. “She was wearing dark clothes. Too heavy for the desert. She had short, dark hair, but otherwise looked unremarkable. She left the canteen before Teake found me, so I don’t know where she is now.”

He heard the scratching of a quill as Riju wrote his description down. Link turned his head to look at her and noted with some amusement that she was writing it down in her diary. It was a very chief-like thing to write down in a diary, he thought.

Misinterpreting Link’s glance, Riju explained sheepishly, “It’s my diary. It was the paper closest to me.”

Link nodded, hoping against all hope that she wouldn’t realize that he had already read her diary when he’d first snuck into her room. That would be incredibly embarrassing. And would probably get him kicked out of the town for good. He decided to stare at the ceiling again.

Riju sighed beside him. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “I know that I have to keep sending troops out. I’ll look weak otherwise. But it hurts when they come back injured.”

There was a strong undercurrent of despair in her voice now, and Link turned to meet her gaze.

“I don’t have enough troops to challenge the Yiga in their own valley,” she explained. “And no Gerudo soldier gets trained in stealth, so I can’t order good reconnaissance. I’m stuck, and if this keeps going, my people will consider me unfit to be chief.”

“I’m sure they won’t,” Link hastily put in, alarmed at the direction the conversation was taking.

Riju stared down at the blankets. “I know they’ve already been muttering about how I let the Thunder Helm get stolen. Sometimes I feel like a colossal failure.”

“I can sympathize,” Link said honestly. His heart went out to the young chief, who at this moment looked every bit her thirteen years of age. _At least you haven’t repeatedly failed to destroy the ancient evil that will destroy your entire world._

Riju clutched a stuffed sand seal to her chest, a small worried frown on her face. Something about it was so painfully familiar. It was right there in his mind, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Then he felt the full weight of memory bear down on him like a pile of boulders, dragging him once again into a vision of a century ago.

 

//||\\\

 

“Big brother! Big brother!” A young girl’s insistent cries startled Link awake from his nap. He lay still for a second, trying to reclaim the peace and solitude he’d felt just moments ago.

Then he cracked one eye open to see Aryll before him, clutching her small stuffed horse with a worried frown.

Link decided he did not care. “Go away,” he muttered. He closed his eyes again, basking in the warmth of the spring sunlight.

“Link, no!” Aryll cried. “Dad and his friends got attacked!”

Link bolted upright, all sense of comfort and calm gone. “Where?” he breathed.

Aryll started to run back toward their house, waving him forward. “Follow me!”

Link cast one last longing glance at his nap spot. It was at the corner of their family’s small estate, wedged between a rustic wood fence and a gnarled oak tree, and at this time of day a shaft of sunlight perfectly lit the spot where Link laid down.

But he had a bigger issue to worry about. He ran after Aryll and gasped, “Is he okay?”

Aryll stubbornly shook her head, tears starting to well up in her eyes. Link’s heart jumped in his throat and he surged past her, throwing the door to their house open.

His father was sitting in a chair by the hearth, along with other knights and soldiers of his company. His mother was standing in front of him with her back to Link, blocking the extent of the knight’s injuries from his view. But Link could see his breastplate leaned against the wall. It was caked in dirt and mud and dented all over. Worst of all, there was a jagged slash in the metal, cutting through where his father’s shoulder would have been. The work of a lizal blade, Link realized with a sinking stomach. Hadn’t they escaped the lizalfos when they’d left Zora’s Domain?

Link took a hesitant step forward. Fear gripped him. “Mama – “

His mother whirled around, desperate irritation sparking in her eyes even with the exhausted slump of her shoulders. “Go play with Aryll outside,” she told him tersely. Short and slight as she was, she could still be intimidating.

Link could not think of a single thing to say. He saw the extent of the injuries on the other men in the room, and his throat burned as he tried to hold back tears. He had to be strong. For his father, for Mama, for Aryll.

His mother’s expression softened. “He’ll be alright, Link,” she murmured. “But I have work to do.”

Link heard a weak chuckle from his father. “Ah, leave him alone, Anith,” he said, trying to push himself up. “If he wants to be a knight, he’ll have to get used to seeing this sort of thing.”

His mother scowled and pushed him back down. “Sit down, Rossin. No, I mean it. Sit _down._ ” His father relented after a few seconds of struggle. She slumped into the chair opposite him.

“Link is only twelve,” she told him quietly. “Let him have his last year of freedom before he begins his training.” Then she realized Link was still there, and turned around to fix him with an annoyed glare.

“I get it, Mama,” Link said, backing towards the door. He smacked right into the doorframe, then slipped out and slammed the door before anyone could make fun of him.

Aryll was waiting for him on the other side. She stared up at him expectantly, still clutching that stupid stuffed horse like a lifeline.

“Mama says he’ll be fine,” Link informed her.

Her expression immediately brightened, and she started bouncing on the balls of her feet. “That’s good, big brother!” Then she rummaged around in the pocket of her light blue dress for something. As soon as she pulled out her telescope, Link groaned. That telescope was bad news. It always meant Link would get dragged into a ridiculous scheme where he would help Aryll spy on the villagers and then get into trouble for it.

“I wanna spy on the knights!” she exclaimed.

Link frowned. _Knights?_ Then Aryll pointed behind him, on the other side of their house. He turned around and gaped at the sight.

It seemed like his father’s entire company of knights and soldiers had set up camp in the field next to the house. He hadn’t noticed when he had been napping or so worried about his father, but it was very noisy. The clangs of armor and swords rang out in the air, and there was already smoke rising from between the multicolored tents that had sprung up in a loose block. The smell of roasting meat drifted in the breeze to Link and Aryll. Suddenly, spying on the knights didn’t seem like such a terrible idea to him.

Link heard the sound of crunching dirt behind him, and he spun around. There was a dark-haired man standing behind them, with a sallow face, bags under his eyes, and a well-maintained small moustache. He wore a navy-blue knight’s tunic, but had no weapons on him. Link vaguely recognized him, but couldn’t say whether he was one of his father’s friends or not.

“You’re Sir Rossin’s kids, aren’t you?” he asked without preamble.

Link stared up at him impassively, and Aryll nodded.

“I’ve heard him mention his kids before. Didn’t he say one of them was almost of age to start knight training?” the man continued, nonchalant.

“That’s me,” Link blurted out, unable to resist puffing his chest a little.

The man gave him a critical onceover with one eyebrow raised incredulously. “You? No offense, kid, but you’re a little small.”

Link recoiled, about to give the man a piece of his mind, but someone else beat him to it, shouting, “Linebeck, leave those poor kids alone!”

Linebeck scowled. “Aw, come on, Rusl, I wasn’t being mean!”

Rusl jogged up, soldier’s armor clanking. He had his helmet tucked under his arm. The red royal insignia emblazoned on it marked him as a captain. Link stared at him with wide eyes. Was this _the_ Captain Rusl? Commander of the soldiers of East Necluda Company and his father’s right hand man?

Rusl also had a moustache, but he looked much nicer than Linebeck. “I assume you’ve already checked in on your father. How is he doing?”

Link was too surprised to ask how the captain knew who he and Aryll were. From beside him, Linebeck scoffed, “There’s no way he’s not fine. That man’s a real stubborn bastard.”

“I’ll thank you not to speak of the Knight-Commander that way in front of his children,” Rusl said pointedly.

Linebeck waved him off. “I technically outrank you, old man,” he said, but there was no bite to his tone.

Rusl chuckled. “Don’t let Rossin catch you saying that, Sir Linebeck.”

Link gaped. _Sir_ Linebeck? The man was a knight? Linebeck vaguely saluted Rusl with an eye roll, then jogged off to the camp.

“Dad is fine,” Link blurted out, unsure what else to do.

Rusl grinned. “Good. I’d love to stay and chat more, but duty calls. Take care of your father for me.” Then he left, leaving Link to stare after him. He’d heard so many stories about Rusl’s bravery, leadership, and prowess with the sword. When he was younger, Link had hoped that he would one day be Rusl’s squire, but then he had learned that Rusl had not a single drop of noble blood in him and therefore was ineligible for knighthood.

His thoughts were interrupted by a tug on his sleeve. “Big brother!” Aryll said, smacking her telescope against his arm repeatedly.

“Ow, Aryll, no!” Link slapped her hand away, but the telescope went flying into the dirt a few feet away, and Aryll let out a shriek like she’d been burned. _Oh, man._

His sister practically flew to the telescope, scooping it up and inspecting it closely for damage or even the slightest smudge of dirt. “I’m gonna tell Mama!” she cried.

Link froze. “Don’t you dare.”

Aryll shouted, “I will!” and promptly ran off into the soldier’s camp.

Link’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. He didn’t even worry about the fact that she was running in the opposite direction of their house. That crafty girl was probably just trying to dodge him. What – what if she got trampled? Then it would all be his fault! Mama would kill him! Without another thought, he dove between the tents where she had disappeared.

He burst out of the tents into a cacophony of activity. Soldiers were sparring, cooking, and tending to their wounds, all while laughing raucously and telling jokes and stories.

Link paled at the sight of practice swords swinging around. What if they weren’t watching and Aryll got hit? Oh no. No, no, no.

He caught a glimpse of bright blonde hair running in front of a tent across the central clearing of the camp. He sprinted for it, dodging and weaving around soldiers who yelped in surprise.

When he rounded the corner, he almost collided with Aryll. She had come to an abrupt stop, mesmerized by something in front of her. Link was about to start yelling when he realized what she was so enthralled by.

Music. A delicate, simple melody was being plucked from a small harp. The player wasn’t a man but a boy, a Sheikah youth no older than Link himself. As he watched, an older Hylian man seated beside him began to sing.

" _The kingdom of Hyrule is a vast and storied land,_  
_Oft grasped in the palm of a villainous hand._

_A dark force of destruction, many times undone,_  
_Rises once again - Ganon, the calamitous one._

_But hope survives in Hyrule, for all is not lost,_  
_Two brave souls protect it, no matter the cost._

_A goddess-blood princess and a fearless knight,  
_ _They appear in each age to fight the good fight…”_

Link had the strangest feeling while listening to the song. He could not place it, but it was as if he were both not him and more him than he had ever been. It was as if he were living countless lives that were not his, all in the blink of an eye – a future him that could exist, a past him who had been snuffed out. Visions of darkness stretched before him. He itched at his hands, breath suddenly short. Was there something on his hands? Dirt? Blood?

When he looked down, his hands were clean. The strange feeling broke. Link shook his head, alarmed. He wasn’t going crazy, was he?

Aryll poked him in the side with her elbow. He realized that the bard had stopped singing, and that everyone was applauding. Link halfheartedly joined them. He had enjoyed the performance, but… He didn’t know how to describe it. He inexplicably felt the urge to whack at something with a sword.

He turned his attention back to the bard, who was grinning and bowing for his appreciative audience. “Thank you, thank you,” he said. Link noted that his right arm was in a sling, and that he was wearing finery that befit Hyrule Castle, not the outskirts of Hateno Village.

“My name is Cassar, and I am Hyrule’s court poet,” the bard continued. “This young gentleman on the harp is Pikango, my apprentice. I cannot thank your wonderful company enough for rescuing us from those terrible lizards!”

The bard continued to speak, but Link turned to Aryll and whispered, “Please don’t run away like that again.”

Aryll grinned mischievously. “Aw, big brother, were you actually worried about me?” Link spluttered a denial, but she shoved her stuffed horse at him and said, “Epona will protect me!”

Link raised an eyebrow. “Epona?”

“Mama told me that Epona is the guardian spirit of horses,” Aryll informed him.

Link grinned despite himself. “Maybe Epona will protect me when I become a knight.”

Aryll said, “I hope so. Otherwise I think you’d get yourself killed really fast.”

Link squawked indignantly and tried to grab the telescope out of his sister’s hands. He never did succeed at that.

 

//||\\\

 

Link blinked the memory away. Riju was staring at him, deep concern etched into the lines of her face. He could not care less that she was worried.

He had – a _sister?_

Aryll. _Aryll._

In that moment, a helpless, overflowing rage rushed through his veins, and it was everything he could do not to scream.

Did no one think to tell him that _he had a sister?_ Impa – had she known? Bazz or Kodah? Had Aryll been with him at Zora’s Domain? In all of those images on the Sheikah Slate – had Princess Zelda really been so selfish to leave all memories of her and none of his _family_?

He clenched his fists, twisting up the bed sheets, and Riju timidly asked, “Link, are you alright?”

Something tried to crawl its way up his throat, halfway between a sob and a scream. He couldn’t breathe. Did Riju seriously think he could even form words right now?

Aryll. She was as bright as the sunlight, inquisitive, likely as he was to get into trouble. She took after their mother – slight, pale blonde hair, sky blue eyes. Just the thought of that brightness getting snuffed out – getting trampled into the dust, buried in an unmarked grave, if even – gone, _dead_ –

Link didn’t know what he was doing, but he was out of Riju’s room, out of the palace, into Hotel Oasis and slapping a red rupee onto the counter, collapsing on a bed. The tears would not come. Why couldn’t he cry for his sister? It was like an endless chasm had opened inside him, swallowing everything until nothing, not even the rage, was left.

He was so tired. He couldn’t sleep, not when blonde hair and a telescope flashed behind his eyelids when he blinked.

How… how had he failed her like this? That was what hurt the most. Until Link had remembered, no one else had. She had been truly gone.

_She still is truly gone,_ an insidious voice whispered in his head. It sounded a lot like how he imagined the Calamity to sound, and it also sounded a lot like Link. He shut the voice out, and shut his eyes.


	6. More Bananas?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS. It has been approximately seven years (read: a month) since I last updated. Sorry! Finishing up school and working and stuff has killed me. On the bright side, I have the next chapter written and it just needs some edits. I won't make any promises, but hopefully it'll be up next week. It certainly won't be another month.

Someone was cooking something delicious near him. Or rather, many people were cooking many different dishes. Strangers coming together to share ingredients, a cooking pot, and a meal was a time-honored Hyrulean tradition, and it was comforting to know that it survived in most of the old kingdom.

Link cast his gaze around the main market of Gerudo Town with only the slightest bit of interest. It looked similar to how it had yesterday, but _more,_ somehow. The warm, sharp smell of spices was stronger, the laughter and shouts were louder, and the women of the town were wearing copious amounts of elaborate jewelry that gleamed in the desert sun. Isha was standing next to her jewelry store, looking very pleased with herself and all the new business she had doubtlessly gotten today.

Today was a festival day, Link knew that. A holiday for all of the Gerudo. He forgot what the name of it was in Gerudic, but the Hylian name was the Day of Spirit. There were seven festival days to honor the Seven Heroines, and this was the third Link had been present for. It was always a pleasant surprise when he happened to visit during a celebration. On the Day of Skill, he had won the sword fighting tourney, narrowly lost first place in the archery tournament to a ridiculously talented soldier, and gotten last place in the sand-seal race after falling off his shield about six times. The Day of Endurance involved a long procession out into the desert that ended with a ceremony at the statues of the Heroines to honor the fallen Gerudo soldiers.

The Day of Spirit seemed less serious than the other two so far. The point of the festival was apparently to ingest as much food and alcohol as possible while also wearing as much jewelry as possible. This did not interest Link, not today. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall in the corner of the marketplace. He had tried to get his share of the communal meal earlier, but when he had seen young girls running around, screaming and laughing, he had totally lost his appetite. Staring up at the cloudless blue of the sky, he wondered if Aryll’s absence would always cast a cold shadow on him.

He liked it better when he couldn’t properly mourn his family. Earlier in the morning, Link had remembered who had taught him how to cook and sew. It had been his mother, Anith. Brief, faded images flashed through his memory of his catastrophically failed attempts at brewing elixirs and mixing poultices. His mother planted her hands on her hips and shouted at him to clean up the mess. _By all the spirits, Link, I am determined to teach you something more practical than how to swing a sword around!_ Anith had been the village healer, once upon a time. That was how she and Rossin had met.

Link clenched and unclenched his fist, thinking miserably, _I finally learned how to make elixirs, Mama._

The memories of his mother had come back as if they had never left at all, soft and worn at the edges and tucked in the corner of his mind. He’d caught other flashes of insight like this, like he was simply finding something he had lost some time ago. It felt almost like a betrayal, an old grief and pain made suddenly fresh and raw again. It killed him that no one knew, that even his own mind treated it like it was no big deal.

It wasn’t like remembering Aryll. That had been like a lynel’s hammer right in the gut. All of the memories from the pictures in the Sheikah Slate were the same way. Even his memory of his childhood in Zora’s Domain was so abrupt and all-consuming that Daruk had had to step in just so he wouldn’t be killed.

It was strange, Link thought. Those flashbacks had been so much more vivid and intense than any of the other old, vague memories he had recovered. Almost like something was pulling them out of his own mind –

“Little vai!” The voice startled him out of his musings. Link glanced to the side to see a visibly intoxicated Ardin stumbling toward him. He grimaced.

“I drew a contract,” Ardin slurred, shoving a paper in the general direction of his face.

“Drew up a contract,” Link automatically corrected. Ardin liked to learn new Hylian phrases from him.

Ardin frowned. “Uh, why would I draw _up?_ That doesn’t make sense.” She scoffed, then leaned even closer to Link. “Reeeeeeead it.”

There was so much alcohol on her breath that Link half suspected he could get drunk from it too. He twisted to the side in an attempt to avoid her bad breath and her bright red hair. She had a _lot_ of hair, and it was somehow getting in his face. It was probably because Ardin was leaning against the wall like she was about to be sick. Link snatched the contract out of her hand before she could throw up all over him.

It almost did look like it had been literally drawn, Link thought with some amusement. The thick parchment was covered in charcoal smears and irregular, lopsided Hylian lettering. It read:

 

CONTRAC

-The vai gives all heer stuff to me

-Spera is a dum loser

 

SINGED

Ardin

____________ (vai)

 

Link could feel a laugh bubbling up inside him, and tamped it down out of principle. He was supposed to be _upset_ , dammit. “Look, I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure this contract isn’t legally binding if you can’t even remember my name,” he told Ardin, who was now laying on the dusty ground.

“Spera suuuuuuucks,” groaned Ardin.

“Not to mention you spelled basically every other word wrong,” Link continued.

Ardin’s arm flopped over her face, shielding her eyes from the sun. “She took my drink away,” she whined.

Link eyed her. “Probably a good thing. It’s still morning and you’re already sloshed.”

Ardin glared at him. “I do _not_ have a problem.”

Link arched an eyebrow in response. “Never said you did.”

Ardin mumbled, “Issa festival day,” just as Spera popped out of her booth and sauntered over to them, a bottle of clear liquor in her hand.

“Looking for this?” Spera teased. Link peered at the label and how much of the liquid was already gone, then raised his eyebrows. It was Hebra wildberry gin. The mountaineers made that stuff strong to ward off the cold. And it looked like Ardin had definitely had more than she should have.

Link gave Spera the contract and said, “She called you a ‘dum loser,’ so I assume so.”

Spera smirked as she gave the paper a glance. “You know, this is technically a violation of AGM bylaws.”

Link blinked. “The what now?”

“The Association of Gerudo Merchants,” Spera said innocently. “Why, I could convene a special session right now and still have a quorum, even with half of the town drunk.”

“I have no idea what you just said.”

“If Ardin doesn’t take back this contract, we can take away her practicing merchant license and rent her stall to someone else.” Spera’s smile was positively devious. It frightened Link.

He must not have hidden his expression very well, because Spera rolled her eyes and told him, “It’s a _joke_. The AGM already has a written agreement about how imports from individual registered sellers are to be distributed among AGM members based on demand. Ardin can’t make her own contract violating those terms, but she clearly doesn’t know better right now.”

At Link’s blank look, she gave up trying to explain anything to him and kicked Ardin lightly in the side instead, drawling, “Hey, rehvaq, get up.” Link didn’t know what that word meant, but from Ardin’s grumble, he guessed it was an insult.

Then her words caught up to him, and he incredulously said, “Wait, you merchants cheating me out of all of my stuff has been _organized_ the whole time?”

Spera shot him a glance. He couldn’t tell if it was actually condescending or if she just towered over him. “Well, when you first came here, you confused a blue rupee for a purple one, so we decided not to concern you with the finer details.” Definitely condescension, then.

Ah, yes. The good old days when Link had stumbled around Hyrule while perpetually confused. He had adapted fast when he had awakened in the Shrine of Resurrection. He had to in order to avoid getting murdered by the monsters. But for a long time, the finer points of commerce and social interaction had evaded him. They occasionally still did, he admitted to himself with some embarrassment.

How did anyone keep it all straight? How did you remember the proper Gerudo greeting for each time of the day, each denomination of rupee, the average market value of a lizalfos talon, or how to respond when someone complimented your hair? It was all a mystery to Link. He supposed that before, he’d had nineteen years under his belt to learn that stuff. Honestly, it was unfair to expect him to learn it all again in only one year.

“A purple rupee is fifty, I’m not stupid,” Link blurted out, crossing his arms. He almost cringed after the words left his mouth. _Way to sound like an angry kid._

Spera ignored him, electing instead to push Ardin, who was still laying down but now grabbing her legs, away. “By the Heroines, Ardin, you are the most _incompetent_ – “ Spera let out a sharp breath as Ardin groaned and reached her hand up for the bottle of wildberry gin Spera was still carrying. “I’ll strip you of your position of secretary!” she snarled.

Ardin loudly gasped and sat up, wobbling slightly. “You wouldn’t!”

“I would!” Spera shot back. “And so would Isha and Estan!”

The expression of complete and utter betrayal on Ardin’s face was so over-the-top that Link let out a snicker. Both merchants gave him twin irritated looks, and he threw his hands up in surrender. It did not take long for the two merchants to start bickering again, and Link decided to leave them be.

He strolled around the perimeter of the marketplace, mulling over the new information about the Association of Gerudo Merchants. To say his memory was spotty was an understatement, but he somehow knew that such an association didn’t exist a hundred years ago. He bet it had grown out of necessity with the collapse of Hyrule’s royal government. Yunobo had told him that Bludo, the boss of Goron City, was officially the head of the miners’ labor union, but when the Hyrulean ambassadors and administrators stopped coming to the city, Bludo had been given his authority as boss by the Gorons.

All of this would be valuable information for Princess Zelda, when he finally destroyed the Calamity. She would have to rebuild her kingdom, and as the one who had been wandering around it recently, Link would have to help her out in any way he could.

Of course, that was assuming the princess was even still alive. The thought that she might not be chilled him. Very few people still believed she wasn’t dead, but he _knew._ He had _heard_ her voice call to him from the castle. He refused to believe that she was gone, that the power holding Calamity Ganon back was not just some faint echo from a century gone by. Both for her sake and for all of Hyrule’s sake.

He was so busy getting himself nervous about the Calamity again that he almost collided with a soldier. She shifted her stance and tightened her grip on her spear before she realized who it was. “Sav’otta, Zelda,” she greeted without enthusiasm. “May the blessings of the Heroines light – where is your jewelry?”

Link shrank a bit under the guard’s sudden scrutiny. “Uh, I wasn’t aware that was required.”

The soldier sniffed faintly, her armor clanking as she brought her spear back to her side. “Legend has it that soon after Gerudo Town was first established, a molduking threatened to destroy it. The Heroine of Spirit fought it for seven days and seven nights before she realized that she needed to be creative. Thus, the jewelry.” Her story had the flat, rehearsed feel of a script read off to ignorant tourists.

Link squinted into the crowd, which was now dancing to music from a quartet of Gerudo musicians. The reflections from all the metals and stones made him look away. “Huh? Did she blind it? How are you supposed to blind a giant subterranean sand worm?”

The soldier sighed. Her body language screamed _what a stupid question._ “No. Moldukings like shiny things. She convinced the Heroine of Skill to give her the stash of gold and jewels she had amassed so she could lay a trap for the molduking.”

“What was in the trap?” Link prodded.

“It depends on who tells you the story,” she told him with a sour look. When she didn’t elaborate, Link huffed and moved on. Hylia, he hadn’t expected her to tell a story like that bard Kass, but did she have to be so terse about it?

There was a large military presence in the town today, he noticed as he continued walking. Spears bristled from every entrance to the marketplace. Soldiers moved around the perimeter of the town like shadows. Had he ever seen guards posted on _top_ of the walls before? They were facing the outside desert, while the guards on the ground cast watchful gazes on the festival-goers. This couldn’t just be security for the holiday, he realized. Festivals brought vulnerability. And where there was vulnerability, the Yiga Clan would be there to exploit it.

But would they really be so bold as to attack a major settlement? They had already attacked Woodland Stable, but the stable didn’t have an _army._

Did Riju and Buliara know something he didn’t?

He was startled by the clearing of a throat behind him. He turned to see Captain Teake with an escort of two other soldiers. She was still favoring her injured leg, but she stood tall and proud in an especially ornate and bejeweled set of Gerudo armor. When she shifted, sunlight glinted off of her helmet and made Link squint.

She shifted again and the reflection lessened enough to where Link could see her expression. Her lips were pressed together into a thin line and the look in her eyes was steely. The restrained fury in the way she tightly gripped the pommel of her scimitar made foreboding creep into Link’s stomach.

Teake couldn’t be mad at him, could she? It was probably the Yiga Clan. They were a pain in everybody’s ass. Corralling a bunch of drunk people on a festival day couldn’t be fun either.

“The chief requests your presence immediately,” the captain said tersely. She didn’t stop to wait for Link before she turned and strode to the palace. The crowds parted around her like water, despite being in various states of intoxication. One woman even stumbled backwards into the water framing the central plaza, but Teake didn’t even cast a glance back.

By the time Link and the soldiers finished climbing the steps to the throne room, he was thoroughly nervous and discouraged. Away from all of the drunk and excited festival-goers, he could feel the tension in the air. The soldiers were never too far away from a battle-ready stance and their hands were never too far away from their weapons.

Riju was having a quiet argument with Buliara and a Gerudo covered with a long, sheer gold and purple veil by the throne when Link and Teake entered. They stopped talking as soon as they noticed the newcomers, and Link wanted to shrink under their attention.

“Chief Riju, I present Zelda,” Teake said, curt and almost grudging.

Riju’s gaze was guarded and her posture was stiff. Link felt a wave of guilt crash over him. It suddenly struck him that his reaction to remembering Aryll must have been mystifying for Riju. He’d just stormed out without a single word to the chief, hadn’t he?

Diplomatic. He had to be diplomatic about making amends. The thought of diplomacy made him tense up. Where was Mipha’s kind soul or Zelda’s sharp intelligence when he needed it? He was just a dorky screw-up of a knight, not royalty. Not even a knight anymore, not really. He was some random adventurer with a penchant for killing monsters and accidentally putting innocent people in danger. He was even less than he had been a hundred years ago.

Bolstered by that _very_ comforting thought, he stammered, “Would it be possible to speak in private – “

Buliara interrupted him by slamming the tip of her claymore into the ground. He recognized the anger in her eyes as protectiveness, and his heart sank as he realized that Riju most likely would have told her about his actions the night before. “We do not have time for that!” she practically roared. Link shrank back. He got the message. He would keep his mouth shut. Nerves buzzed in his stomach as he waited for Riju to say something.

What would it be? Hurt? Confusion? Condemnation? Anger? He very nearly averted his eyes, then thought better of it. Goddess curse him, he may not have been the same stoic, capable knight he once was, but he was still better than quaking in front of a thirteen-year-old girl.

But Riju must have heard the pleading in his voice earlier, because she relaxed slightly and her voice was surprisingly gentle when she gestured to the woman in the veil by her side and said, “This is First Priestess Birida. When we are done with our business here, she and I will go down to the plaza and perform the blessings for the Day of Spirit.”

Link nodded hesitantly. He wasn’t sure what Riju was doing. Part of him wanted to think that she was trying to and be charitable after his strange behavior the night before and allow him to explain himself, but another, more irritating part of him thought that he shouldn’t expect anything like that. He was still kicking himself over failing to explain what had happened.

Then Riju placed her hands on the armrests of her throne and leaned forward, a peculiar glint in her eyes. “But first things first. We found your spy,” she said.

Link was surprised, despite himself. “I’m assuming this has something to do with how many soldiers are in town today.”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Riju replied. “We need you to confirm that this woman is in fact the Yiga spy you were talking about.”

Link nodded, and Riju gestured for him to follow her, Buliara and Teake to the barracks. A soldier standing guard in front of a plain wooden door saluted and stood aside for them to pass.

It took several seconds for Link’s eyes to adjust in the dimly lit room. It was barely more than a supply closet, but it had been cleared of all weapons and tools so that a chair could fit.

The Hylian woman who had been giving him funny looks at the Noble Canteen was tied to the chair. Her dark hair was hanging over her face and stuck to her forehead with sweat. She did not look up as they entered.

“Yeah, that’s her, alright,” Link confirmed.

“Excellent,” Riju said. “Now the interrogation can begin.” She sounded much more enthusiastic about that than she should have.

Link heard a low, raspy laugh, and it took him a second to realize it was coming from the Yiga spy. “There’s no need,” she said. She looked up, and Link was startled to find that, although a bruise had swollen one eye nearly shut, her fierce gaze was pinned squarely on him.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” the spy declared. “The Yiga will attack your town while all your people are too drunk to defend themselves, and they will continue to do so until the Hylian Champion turns himself over to us.”

Link froze. Although she had been speaking to Riju, the spy’s gaze had not left him a single time since she had looked up. Cold fear settled into his limbs like lead. Was she bluffing? They couldn’t possibly be planning to attack such a large settlement…could they?

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Teake sizing him up. When he risked a quick glance at her, she was staring straight forward, jaw set and eyes full of repressed fury. She had connected the dots, he realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Great, now he was about to get permanently kicked out of Gerudo Town too.

He kept his lips pressed into a thin line as Riju and Buliara asked a few cursory questions about the Yiga Clan’s numbers and plans of attack, but the spy refused to answer any of them. Buliara eventually gave Riju a look, and the chief gestured for Link to leave with her, leaving the soldiers to their interrogation.

Once they reemerged into the bright sunlight, Link made a beeline for the north gate of the town. He couldn’t stay here. If worst came to worst, he could fight his way away from the Yiga – escape their hideout if necessary –

“Zelda!” Riju hissed.

Link reluctantly stopped just outside of the gates. The soldiers flanking them gave him an odd look, but upon seeing their chief, straightened up and turned their gazes forward.

Riju glared at him. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t just leave! We need your help!”

“No, you don’t.” Link shook his head. He couldn’t quite look at her. “I’m putting you all in more danger by staying here.”

“Zelda, that’s not true! The Yiga Clan would have tried something like this at some point anyway!” Exasperation laced her words. Link had the sense that she was bluffing to make him feel better, but her irritation undermined the effect. “There’s something else going on, isn’t there? Is it something we can help with?”

“I don’t think you understand,” Link said, licking his lips. His throat was very dry.

“Then _make_ me understand,” Riju retorted stiffly. “You can start with explaining why you acted so weird last night!” Her elaborate headdress was skewed, and she adjusted it.

Link spread his arms out, feeling helpless. “I…remembered my sister.”

Riju blinked. “Sister?”

He smiled humorlessly. “That was about my reaction too.”

Understanding dawned on Riju’s face, soon replaced by pity. He hated that look, but at least Riju was someone he could talk to.

It suddenly hit him, the enormity of it all. He had known that he had to have had parents, but he hadn’t remembered a single Goddess-cursed thing about them. And then he remembered them, he remembered how much they loved him and how much they taught him, but he realized that they’d been dead for literally a century and there was nothing he could do about it. But that wasn’t the only thing. He had a sister, and he had no idea. He forgot all about her. And she was _dead_.

The fury boiling in his blood startled Link. He forced himself to take in deep, ragged breaths. Riju was staring at him, stunned. “Li – _Zelda_ , I’m so sorry. I had no idea. You were obviously upset about something, and Buliara said that you were still upset this morning, but I didn’t know…”

Link hesitated for a long moment. “I really appreciate your friendship, Riju,” he said honestly. “I’m going to Kara Kara Bazaar. Probably less drunk people to put in danger.”

“You will do no such thing,” Riju replied, the heat in her voice startling him. “Kara Kara is practically indefensible. Besides, all the voe go there to get drunk anyway.”

Link sighed. “Fair enough.” Besides, he had left all of his gear in the hotel that morning.

He followed the chief back into the town, and chaos immediately broke loose.

Link heard familiar cackling a second before he heard soldiers barking orders. A mere moment later, he saw the first Yiga footsoldiers appearing right in the middle of the marketplace.

The women in the crowd screamed and stumbled for the entrances to the town, only to find that footsoldiers had materialized there too, keeping them hemmed in.

“Behind me,” he ordered Riju. A footsoldier noticed him and stalked forward, demon carver held at the ready. Link reached back for the handle of his broadsword and met with only air.

Right. He was unarmed.

_Fantastic._

Well, he always had the Sheikah Slate at his hip. He unhooked it from his belt and held it out in front of him with two hands like a very small shield.

The footsoldier crouched and tensed, ready to spring forward. Link panicked and did the only thing he could think to do in the heat of the moment. He stabbed his finger at the Stasis rune, pointed the Slate at the Yiga, and clicked the button.

The footsoldier was frozen mid-slash, held in place by glowing, golden chains. Link heard Riju gasp and exclaim behind him, and he couldn’t help the small grin that formed on his face. He hooked the Slate back on his belt, snatched up an empty box that had been sitting next to him, and threw it at the Yiga’s mask with both hands.

A second later, after the box had fallen to the ground, the footsoldier flew backward into a palm tree. The mask splintered and fell off, revealing the bewildered face of a young Hylian man.

“Aw, _shit,_ ” the footsoldier said, before scrambling up to his feet and running away. Actually, it was more like stumbling away, after the hit he’d taken to his head.

Link was frozen, just for a second. For all of his warrior instinct and knight training, he’d never been taught to defend the chief of the Gerudo from teleporting assassins. While unarmed.

Then his focus came back, all in a rush. It didn’t matter. He was plenty well-armed, compared to most people in the square. He unhooked the Sheikah Slate and held it at the ready.

Link risked a glance back at Riju. The young chief was clearly taken by surprise, but she’d gotten a scimitar from somewhere and was holding it before her, jaw set. She likely had some minimal self-defense training, knowing Buliara. But he would take no chances.

He took a quick inventory of the scene before him. Yiga footsoldiers were backing civilians into each corner of the town. Link didn’t know why, but he suspected they would be hostages before long. Soldiers were skillfully brandishing spears at them, but the Yiga were just teleporting out of range. The air was full of cackling, shouts, and the fluttering of paper. He noted that the archers on the walls were aiming, but letting loose very few arrows, with such a high chance of hitting their own people.

“To the palace,” he commanded Riju. She nodded and kept close to him as he started to skirt the walls of the town. He ducked into stalls, rather than go around and become a clearer target for the Yiga.

Link hastily scanned the area for things he could use in combat. Bombs were a terrible idea within the city walls, and while there was some water surrounding the raised central dais of the marketplace, Cryonis was rarely useful in combat.

Except – there was a footsoldier ready to lunge across the water, ready to strike at him and Riju. With a sure hand, he flicked to Cryonis and summoned a pillar of ice from the pool of water, just in time for the footsoldier’s demon carver to wedge in it uselessly.

Link took the opportunity to seize Riju’s hand and sprint for the palace. If the Yiga clansmen hadn’t realized he was within the city walls yet, they knew now, judging from the shouts and commotion behind him.

Metal scraped behind him, and he acted on instinct. Daruk’s red barrier formed around him and Riju, just in time for a demon carver to bounce off it, right where Riju’s back would have been.

“Whoa, what’s going on here?” Daruk’s voice boomed behind Link. He heard the Goron’s mighty grunt, a solid _thwack_ of a stony fist against something, and a footsoldier’s shriek.

“Long story,” Link called back. “These guys really don’t like me!” He pivoted and froze a lunging footsoldier with Stasis.

“I’ll say!” Daruk laughed, watching the extremely confused footsoldier fall to the ground after a few seconds. “I don’t have much time left. Watch your back, little guy.”

Link nodded, already scanning the plaza for a suitable weapon. His gut twisted when he saw a Gerudo soldier sprawled out on the plaza, unmoving, but the glint of a spear caught his eye. He flicked to Magnesis and brought the spear to him with a twist of his wrists, snatching it out of the air in time to slice a blademaster in the arm.

Blood sprayed into the air, but the blademaster just cracked his neck, unfazed. Link set his jaw and shifted into a defensive stance, Sheikah Slate back on his hip. Daruk was gone now, but he hoped that he had granted Riju enough cover to get to the palace. Behind him, he heard Riju’s and Buliara’s shouts as they hopefully reunited, and that was enough reassurance for him to focus all of his attention on the battle.

Combat raged on all around them, but Link and the blademaster held their positions. They sized each other up. Stillness stretched taut like a bowstring between them.

Then, without warning, the blademaster lunged for him.

Link was ready to sidestep, but his foot caught in a groove between two slabs of stone and pain shot up his leg from his ankle. The wind released from the blade cut across his side, and he hissed. His hand came away from the wound crimson.

Link gritted his teeth against the pain. Dumb, rookie mistake. It wasn’t his fault that his vai clothes made absolutely terrible armor, but he kicked himself all the same. He straightened and hefted the spear again, ignoring the way the blademaster cockily rolled his shoulders.

The blademaster punched the ground. A blood-red rune burned in the air above him. Link felt wind fluttering his clothes and snapped out his paraglider. As he rose into the air, he tucked his legs up to his chest, just in time to avoid the pillar of stone that had erupted from the ground.

Link angled the paraglider forward and fell into an aerial strike. He thrust the spear home, and it pierced through the blademaster’s shoulder. Link fell to the ground gracelessly and stumbled backwards, suppressing his nausea born of pain and the knowledge that he’d just stabbed an actual person. The blademaster groaned and warped away in a burst of fluttering papers. The Gerudo spear he’d been stabbed with clattered to the ground.

Link chanced a glance behind him and saw that Buliara and some other guards had formed a protective circle around Riju. He exhaled. He tried to break into a run for the spear, but he nearly collapsed as his twisted ankle failed to support his weight. He ignored the throbbing pain lancing up his leg and managed to stumble to the spear, scooping it up.

He had to get to his weapons in Hotel Oasis. Most importantly, his shield. There was no way he would be able to defend himself without it in this condition.

It was only twenty feet to the hotel. Link had no idea how he managed to drag himself all the way there without being completely beset by footsoldiers. Arrows flew by him, but not a single one hit its target. Inside the relative safety of the hotel, he flopped down on his bed for the second it took to snatch up the rest of his gear.

Once he limped out of the hotel, he found out why he hadn’t already been killed on the way there.

A row of Yiga clansmen formed a rough semicircle around the entrance to Hotel Oasis. He was blocked in.

“Hylian Champion,” a blademaster in the center declared in a booming voice. “It gives us no pleasure to kill innocents.”

“But you certainly enjoy stealing from them!” came Spera’s angry shout from somewhere beyond the circle. Link paled. Was she alright? His vision was growing a bit fuzzy at the edges, and he couldn’t quite tell what was going on with the Gerudo. Had all of the soldiers already been subdued?

“What? No. No way. Shut up,” the blademaster blustered, irritated by her outburst. “That’s beside the point! The _point_ is, if you don’t come with us, we’ll be forced to resort to violence.”

_Resort to violence._ Link snorted. But he realized that the blademaster had a point. Link was in no shape to get out of this alive if he tried to continue the fight. The best thing he could do for the Gerudo would be to cooperate. For now.

“And I have your assurance that no one in the town will be harmed, not even the chief?” Link asked. He propped himself up with the spear in an effort to take some weight off his bad ankle.

“Ganon’s blood, we’re assassins, not savages!” the blademaster cried indignantly. “We don’t attack _children!_ ”

Link raised an eyebrow and stared at the blademaster until he amended, “Sure, fine, we won’t hurt anyone. Even that super annoying lady over there.”

He pointed, and Link craned his head to see Ardin sprawled out on the ground, grabbing onto a footsoldier’s ankles and sobbing. She was obviously still drunk. “Oh, no,” Link murmured. Spera was on the other side of the plaza, being restrained by another footsoldier. He hoped they would both be alright. They were his friends, even if they were also annoying, cutthroat merchants.

Link tried to take a deep breath and was stopped short by the cutting pain in his side. He felt the eyes of the Gerudo and Yiga on him. He was shaking, and the silk of his clothes was starting to stick to his body with blood and sweat. He was sure that some of the Gerudo had already figured out that the Hylian Champion was never a vai, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Fine,” he bit out. Anger simmered in his belly. “But don’t expect me to walk around in the desert after I twisted my ankle, for Hylia’s sake.”

The blademaster turned to the footsoldier on his right and murmured something. The footsoldier jogged off to the front gate of the town.

An assassin came at Link from the side, and he smacked the footsoldier’s hand away before he realized that she was trying to lend a hand. Link immediately swung his spear behind him and held his hands up before he could get murdered.

He limped behind the blademaster, casting guilty, sidelong glances at all the Gerudo. They mainly looked too exhausted to be angry with him. They were probably happy that he was leaving, given that he was the reason they were at risk. The Gerudo outnumbered the Yiga Clan, but too many of them were drunk civilians for them to be an effective force. Footsoldiers were holding blades against the Gerudo soldiers’ throats. It seemed that fighting within the walls of the town had been a weakness; the Yiga had been able to back the normally very competent soldiers into a literal corner.

And now Link himself was backed into a corner. He caught the gaze of Captain Teake, who was paler than normal. The wound on her leg had reopened, soaking the bandage through, and she was sagging against a wall. Link thought she was chewing something at first, but as he got closer, he realized she was mouthing something. He blinked a few times until he could parse it.

_Rito Village,_ she said. _Go to Rito Village._

Link gave her the barest hint of a nod, and her mouth stopped moving.

A harnessed sand-seal was waiting outside the gates for him. The footsoldier who had tried to help him earlier took the lead rope and tied it to his belt. “Sit on your shield,” she ordered him, and so he did, feeling relief as he finally took his weight off his twisted ankle.

“Sorry about all this,” she added, quieter.

“Why in Farosh’s name do you care?” Link snapped. “Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

The footsoldier glanced at the blademaster, before hesitantly answering, “The Lady said – “

“Hey, don’t tell him that!” another footsolder shouted, before the blademaster raised his hand in a call for silence.

“The Golden Lady can explain her intent for the Champion herself,” the blademaster said, with the air of someone who had already fielded this question a million times.

“Huh? Golden Lady?” Link demanded with the little breath he could comfortably take into his lungs. “I thought you guys were into the smoke thing with the pig head. Are you talking about Kohga’s replacement?”

The blademaster groaned. “Enough questions for now. Let’s just get to the hideout.” He waved his group forward, and about half of the footsoldiers who were there warped away.

_They’re underestimating me,_ Link thought with a grim smile.

As the blademaster took hold of the sand-seal’s reins and started them forward at a walking pace, Link pushed his ankle slightly against the rim of the shield to test how well it would hold up. Not very well, the pulsing pain told him. He winced.

Instead, he waited until they were a safe distance away from the town. He summoned the familiar fury, much easier than usual in the wake of the attack on Gerudo Town. It dulled his aches and pains and he almost saw double.

He reached his arm out in front of him, and one of the Yiga gave him a quizzical glance. Before anyone could react, Link snapped his fingers.

Urbosa appeared in a flare of light. Although her golden outline was barely visible against the yellow dunes, Link could almost see her furious expression as she quickly took in the situation.

“Seven sands,” she snarled as the Yiga Clan members shouted in alarm and pulled out their weapons. Urbosa let out a stream of what Link assumed were foul insults in Gerudic, then raised her arm to the sky.

Lighting rained down on the Yiga, more intense and blinding than Link had ever seen it. “Go!” Urbosa roared at him over the crashing of thunder.

He did not need to be told twice. The blademaster fell to the ground in agony and dropped the sand-seal’s reins. Link snapped the rope tied to his belt, and the sand-seal surged forward into the desert.

Link almost fell flat on his face before he gripped onto the sides of his shield. Shield surfing was much less fun when he was sitting down. Sand sprayed into his face, and for once, he was glad of the veil covering his mouth.

With some careful maneuvering, he wedged his feet into the handles of the shield and pulled himself into a crouch. It was slow and difficult. His body was not cooperating the way he wanted it to.

The sand-seal swam over a dune. Link’s stomach dropped out from under him as the shield came off the sand for a brief moment. The shield swung wildly to one side, and Link pulled on the rope hard enough to pull himself to his feet.

His ankle almost gave out on him, and he dropped into an awkward crouch. The wind tore at his clothes. He wobbled. He couldn’t keep going like this. He would eventually fall off.

A Yiga rune flared in his peripheral vision, and he immediately snapped the rope. The sand-seal dove under the sand and rushed forward, almost yanking Link off his shield. Twin arrows whistled through the air a mere foot away from his head and speared the sand.

The Yiga had found him.

The sand-seal was traveling in a small valley between two dunes. Several more archers were appearing just up ahead. Link braced himself for the inevitable pain, and leaned hard to one side. He carved up a dune and the sand-seal swung in the opposite direction. This time, an arrow grazed his calf, and he bit back a curse.

Now he was headed straight for a cluster of ruins. His heart sank as he saw archers perched on the crumbling arches. He didn’t have time to make a sharp turn. It was the end of the road for him.

Link yanked hard on the rope, and the sand-seal came to a halt. He stumbled forward and fell off his shield. Thankfully, no one was shooting at him. Yet.

“Would you _stop_ that?” one of the archers yelled.

“Stop what?” Link retorted to buy time. Goddess, he really, _really_ hated what he was about to do.

“Escaping us!” said the archer. Link unhooked the Sheikah Slate from his belt and scrolled to the map. “Hey, stop messing with the Slate!” the archer continued, aiming her bow at his face.

Link ignored that comment. “Well, it’s too bad you don’t like that, because I’m about to do it again.” He hit the button cued up on the Slate.

As the world around him dissolved into streaks of incandescent blue, he allowed himself to savor the indignant shouting of the Yiga archers that he could still hear. It was the most enjoyment he’d get for a while, he predicted.

_Rito Village, here I come._


	7. Interlude: Blood of the Goddess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. That's the last time I ever make any vague promises about the next update. Sorry it's been forever! I write at my own pace, which is, unfortunately, pretty slow. I'll work on it. I can't tell you when the next chapter will be done, but I can tell you that it's about halfway written.
> 
> As for this chapter, this is an interlude since we're almost at the halfway point of the story. It's very different from the rest of the fic, but still important. If you hate it, don't worry! It'll be the only chapter like this. Back to regular Link shenanigans next time. Feel free to read and review whether you liked it or not!

On some days, she had no memory, no breath in her lungs.

All she had was a flower growing in the middle of a field.

Why it meant so much to her, she did not know. All she knew was that when the morning sun crested the gentle rolling hills, it hit dew drops on the surface of the flower’s petals at just the right angle, so that the flower looked like a delicate crystalline sculpture. She watched, enraptured, as orange light from the sunrise refracted into a spray of bright spots above the flower’s shadow.

The sight of the silent princess made tears well in her eyes, in a body she did not even know she had half of the time, for reasons she could not remember.

She had to protect it. She had to protect this flower and the land it belonged to.

There was a swirling darkness behind her, prickling at her back. She knew that if she turned to look at it, she had already lost. It whispered at her, filled her veins with cold and foreign fear.

Instead, she studied the splotch of blue on the silent princess’s petals, the same blue as the bright midday sky and as someone’s eyes, someone she couldn’t quite remember.

 

//||\\\

 

On other days, she was wholly aware of who she was. _What_ she was.

She was trapped.

Like always, the sense of time came back to her slowly. A hundred years, she’d been trapped. For three hundred and sixty-four thousand, four hundred and ninety-nine days, she had been in a prison of her own making with an incarnation of pure evil.

It was getting most tiresome.

She cracked open an eye, unsurprised to see nothing but the strange shifting darkness the Calamity so frequently chose to subject her to. It was getting lazy, she thought. Where were the horrifically creative nightmare visions of the Champions getting torn to shreds in various gruesome ways?

As she stretched, her hair fluttered before her face like a curtain, suffused with the golden light of the Goddess. She was weightless, just as she had been for a century. When the Calamity had first swallowed her, it cut her out of reality itself. In truth, she did not know where she was. She could be trapped in the cocoon the Calamity was using to construct a physical body, trapped in the Calamity’s visions. She could be in a warped, corrupted mirror image of the Sacred Realm. Her mother and grandmother had heard divine voices from that realm beyond. The only voices Zelda heard were her own and the Calamity’s, neither of them pleasant. Or, perhaps the worst option of all, she could be existing entirely in her own mind, subject to her own torment as much as the Calamity’s. The question of where she was frightened her more than she cared to admit, so she pushed it to the back of her mind, the same rubbish heap where her regrets and age-old grief rotted, forgotten.

In the end, it did not matter much where she was. She remained weightless because the rules of the physical world apparently mattered not to an incarnation of Hylia in whatever this strange place was.

And they did not matter to an incarnation of Ganon, either, she thought sourly. She watched the Calamity come closer. It struggled through the traps she had laid for it and forced itself through her barriers of light with brute strength. It had taken the form of the ugly spider-thing again. Typical.

She reached within herself and tapped into her reserves of golden power. She tried to ignore how low they were getting. A decade remained, perhaps, at most…

She shook off the thought. There was no use in letting the Calamity see her uncertainty. It could not exploit anything about her that had not already been exploited.

It circled her, a predator stalking its prey. It made little sound, and all she could see of it now was one of its eyes glowing sickly magenta and the reflection on its carapace from her light. She knew it could not pierce her shields, and she could not do anything to it. They kept each other in stasis. She was fighting a war of attrition, when it came down to it.

She had spent the last two decades constructing a fortress of light around her. It was not enough to keep the Calamity out, but it weakened it enough to protect her from much of its torment. In the early years, the only thing that had kept her and Hyrule alive had been her terrified, reflexive bursts of power that had forced the Calamity back when something had tried to touch her in the darkness.

Goddess, how she hated the darkness. Not even her light could pierce it. She felt trapped in the cocoon with the Calamity.

She could now hear its spider legs hissing and clicking as they skittered off her shield of light. A shiver of disgust ran down her spine. It was only a matter of time, she told herself. Only a matter of time before it got bored and left her to her solitude.

As it tapped at her shield, she tried not to think that it was only a matter of time before it broke through her defenses.

With barely a thought, she conjured a golden sword and pointed it at the spider-thing. _Don’t even think about it_ , she warned.

The Calamity froze and looked right at her.

In all of the decades she had been trapped with the beast, she had never gotten used to this. When she looked into the spider-thing’s eyes, she felt as if she were looking straight to the core of the Calamity’s malice and hatred. She felt as if she were not weightless, but in freefall, her stomach dropping out from under her.

Beneath the raw hatred and evil, there was an ancient, cunning intelligence sizing her up. One that was not human, and all the more terrifying for it. Whatever the Calamity really was, it wanted her dead and her kingdom in flames, and it would torment and torture her until it got its way.

Calamity Ganon had once been a man. When had it turned into a monster?

The Calamity eventually wandered away, and she let out a breath. It never was impressed by her threats. She supposed it had just gotten bored. She reflexively spooled out her power to patch the walls of her fortress and reset the traps. She realized she was still holding the sword, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to let it go yet. The winged crossguard of the sword was painfully familiar. She swallowed.

Throughout all of the years she had been imprisoned, she had learned how to focus her power into elaborate, shimmering structures of light and great glowing weapons. But the one thing she could not do was summon the faces and the voices of the people she had once known. All she had left was her memory, and her memory was starting to fail her.

She took a small bit of power from her reserves with some nervousness. It always seemed like a bad idea to use her limited power for such a trivial thing, but it was necessary to keep herself sane.

One by one, she painstakingly formed golden silhouettes of each person she wished to remember most. Her mother, a vague outline in a dress. Daruk’s mountainous figure, crouching over her protectively just like he had when he was alive. Revali with outstretched wings, ready to take to the sky, perhaps to beat Link in an archery contest. Mipha, her hand brought to her mouth in gentle concern but her trident in a battle-ready stance. The proud figure of Urbosa, one hand planted on her hip and the other on the pommel of her scimitar. Zelda could almost see the smirk on her face. Her father and his rotund figure, his arms spread wide in a gesture of goodwill. And finally, her ever-stoic knight watching her silently, his hair just as unruly as it always was and that familiar sword at his back.

Princess Zelda of Hyrule sighed and let the phantoms of her Champions fade into the darkness.

Three hundred and sixty-four thousand, four hundred and ninety-nine days. One more day, and everything would change.

It had to.

 

//||\\\

 

On the first day of the hundredth year of her imprisonment, something did change.

A whirring hum and a click echoed from miles and miles away, somehow reaching Zelda’s consciousness. She opened her eyes, curious. It sounded like the mechanical motion of a Guardian stalker, but subtler. Like a smaller Sheikah machine turning on.

It had to be a Guardian skywatcher straying too close to the Sanctum, she thought, although she could not hear the whirring of its propellers.

Then something brushed the edge of her awareness, and it was as if Urbosa’s lightning crackled across her skin. She let out a gasp.

_The Shrine of Resurrection._

She felt _Link_. Link was awakening.

Zelda followed that sensation, forced her way through the Calamity’s darkness with newfound, desperate strength, and found herself seeing something real for the first time in decades.

She saw the inside of the shrine, a sight she had not seen since she, Purah, and Robbie had first researched its capabilities. The dim, cool light cast by the glowing Sheikah designs on the walls illuminated a room that had barely changed in the last century.

Except, of course, for the occupant of the stasis bed in the center of the room. The water was draining away from the bed, and Link was starting to stir. She instinctively tried to reach out to him, but found that she had no physical form in this place. Instead, she spoke, nerves humming desperately.

_Open your eyes…_

It took a fair amount of insistent prodding for Link to actually awake. He sat up, grumbling vaguely. Zelda could have almost cried in relief. He was still just as difficult to wake up as he had been a hundred years ago.

She examined the room, curious to see what Impa, Purah, and Robbie had been able to leave for Link, and found herself very disappointed that there was little but her Sheikah Slate and an old, worn set of clothes that would likely be too small for him.

She thought for a second, uncertain on how best to guide him when he had so little to start with. A terrible suspicion was working its way into her gut as an old memory of a conversation with Purah played a broken loop in her mind.

_The Shrine of Resurrection may not have the capabilities to restore brain function, especially when it comes to memory,_ Purah had said. _Actually, it might not even be able to preserve existing function in the mind of someone in stasis. Time is bound to degrade memory. That’s the way of things._

While Zelda mused, trying to suppress her nascent panic, Link wandered over to the pedestal where the Sheikah Slate rested and eyed the device curiously.

_Link, do you remember? Do you remember what that is?_

Link hesitantly picked it up and gave it a critical onceover. Zelda could clearly see the conflict in his eyes, and it was at that moment that her heart sank. He did not recognize the Slate. He did not remember his past, just like Purah had theorized.

_That is a Sheikah Slate_ , Zelda told him, resignation and old, buried grief swelling up and nearly choking her. _Take it. It will aid you in your journey._

Link came across the clothes next and struggled to pull them on. The pants only reached down to the middle of his calf. His voice was rusty from disuse but still familiar as he complained, “These are too small.”

_I can see that,_ Zelda replied tartly, still smarting from the realization that he likely did not remember her. _If you dislike them so much, leave the Shrine of Resurrection and find something better._

Darkness flickered across her vision for a moment, obscuring Link’s reaction, and she could feel a deep rumbling in her bones. The Calamity was stirring, she realized, terror seeping into her veins. It had realized her attention was elsewhere. It had realized that the knight with the sword that seals the darkness was now awake.

As its darkness dragged her back to the Sanctum, she hurriedly told him, _Link, you are the light – our light – that must shine upon Hyrule once again._ She did not realize until the words came out of her mouth how much she meant them. He _was_ the light. He did not remember, but he was _here._ That was what mattered, not her own selfish inclinations.

Malice wrapped around her limbs and pulled her away, and she had a brief moment to see the look of confusion on Link’s face before she was trapped in the Calamity’s darkness again. Heart pounding, she threw bursts of her power out to shove the Calamity back and strengthen the walls of her fortress of light.

It could not kill her, and she could not kill it. She had to believe that. They were in equilibrium.

Once she was satisfied, she snapped, _There. Now stay put, would you?_

The Calamity growled in response.

Zelda floated in the darkness for a while until she regained the confidence to look at what Link was doing. She could faintly feel his presence at all times, and she was surprised at the comfort it brought her. Link had been her only hope for so long, and now he was _awake_. She couldn’t resist peeking out at him again.

Link was strolling through the woods, likely still on the Great Plateau. He picked up something from the ground that might have been a nut or acorn, and cheerfully said aloud, “I wonder if this is edible,” immediately before popping it in his mouth.

Zelda scowled. She had expected the Shrine of Resurrection to rob him of his memories, but not his common sense!

It _was_ an interesting question, she admitted to herself, now that she thought about it. What made amnesiacs forget everything about their life, but remember their native language? Were there perhaps different regions of the brain devoted to different tasks, and only some of them were affected by certain traumas?

She wrenched herself back into focus, scolding herself for her inattentiveness. While Link crunched on… _whatever_ it was, she noticed that he had armed himself with a wooden club and a thoroughly rusted shield in the time she had been gone. He abruptly halted and crouched behind a boulder, and Zelda turned to look at what had caused him to do so.

A camp of pig-nosed bokoblins was nestled in the trees just ahead. The monsters had propped their crude weapons up against a large boulder and were sitting around a campfire. Link got a devious glint in his eye and started creeping toward the weapons. Zelda wanted to tell him to be careful, but was wary of allowing the Calamity to get restless again.

Link was reaching out for a rusted sword when a shadow fell over his head.

A bokoblin shrieked and smashed its club into Link’s skull, driving him into the boulder with horrifying force. Zelda screamed. She hadn’t seen this much blood since – since Fort Hateno. Nausea overwhelmed her at the sight of her knight’s lifeless body. No. _No._ He had just awakened – he was their last hope –

All around her, from the catacombs of Hyrule Castle to the very top of the Sanctum, she felt the deep rumbling of the Calamity. It was _laughing_ at her.

She abandoned the visions of the Great Plateau. Screaming again, this time in rage, Zelda threw herself at the Calamity with a surge of blazing light. It retreated under her assault, and she was left to float aimlessly in utter hopelessness.

Was this it? The Calamity only needed to wait a decade longer, then her power would finally fail and it would be free to devastate Hyrule. There was nothing else. Nothing left that would truly stop it.

Zelda blinked as she felt something brush against her consciousness again. Was that – ?

She shoved her way through the darkness again, and almost sobbed in relief when she saw Link picking his way toward the ruins of a town, whistling a vague tune. It was just another of the Calamity’s devious lies. Her knight still lived.

He rounded the corner of a ruined building and was unprepared to come face to face with a decayed Guardian.

Zelda’s breath froze in her throat as the Guardian’s laser locked on its target. Link couldn’t move either, a horrible look of terror and confusion twisting his expression.

_Link, please. Please – please move –_

The laser found its target, burning a hole through her knight’s chest, and Zelda screamed for the third time that day. Once again, there was too much blood. Once again, the Calamity laughed.

She readied herself. She threw the full extent of her power at it, but was horrified to find that this time, it was not working. The darkness reached further and deeper than her light did, and as the Calamity inexorably pushed back against her, she realized that it had been waiting for this all along. It had been biding its time and gathering its strength for the day that Link awakened, just as she had.

Zelda had the sense that for all of the torment she had suffered for the last century, she had never felt the full strength of the Calamity. Until now.

She reached deep down into her reserves and constructed a huge, shimmering wall between her and the Calamity. With each roar and powerful slam against the wall, Zelda felt her resolve weaken.

It was entirely possible that once again, Link had not actually died. But it had felt so _real_. And she knew that it was altogether so easy for Link to die.

But there was no time to search for Link. Her power was dwindling at an accelerated rate now. No longer could she hide within her fortress of light. She and the Calamity were inexorably tied together. So long as she remained resolute, the Calamity could not escape. She needed to believe that.

It could not kill her. She could not kill it. So she met the Calamity in the Sanctum they had created for themselves, letting her fortress dissolve around her while light blazed from her outstretched palms, and the beast swallowed her again like it had a century ago.

 

//||\\\

 

For her, Link existed in a strange state, suspended between alive and dead.

She never knew whether what she saw was real or not. After Link died each time, she did not know if Mipha appeared to heal his wounds, or if it was yet another trick of the Calamity. The malice had swallowed her, and now it was becoming part of her.

She learned that earlier, when she had hidden in her fortress and briefly lost her grip, the Calamity had almost broken free and had risen outside of the castle, its great pig head swirling and roaring around the towers. It had apparently scared the living daylights out of Link. The only way to contain the Calamity in its newly agitated state was to constantly engage it in a battle of wills.

It felt like the early years again, when she had drowned in visions of her kingdom burning and her Champions dying. Only now, it was all Link. Link, knocking against a crate in the Yiga Clan’s hideout on accident and being beset by blademasters who made quick work out of him. Link getting lost in a snowstorm, eating his last spicy pepper dish, and slowly, inevitably freezing to death. Link getting hit by a shock arrow in the rain, screaming in agony as he sank to the ground. It never ended. The worst part was that she was getting used to it.

Her only comfort was during the blood moon. The Calamity would be distracted by resurrecting its minions long enough for Zelda to reach out to Link and warn him. It was the same rote warning, month after month, but it was all Zelda could think of under the huge strain of breaking free from the Calamity’s grasp. It was all she had that let her know he was alive.

 

//||\\\

 

Her name was Zelda.

Her name was Zelda and she was the princess of a fallen kingdom.

There was a reason she needed to remember who she was, but that reason was getting lost in the shadows of her own mind.

By now, it was habit to wander through the dusty halls of her memory. She saw the castle as it was, how it had been before she’d fled. Why had she fled? She constantly asked herself that question as she traced her fingers along elaborately carved stone banisters and rich red banners of the finest silk. Sunlight streamed through high, stained glass windows, painting her in their multifaceted, vividly colored shadows. What had driven her to leave such a grand, opulent place?

Then darkness flickered over her vision, and she remembered.

_The Calamity._

Piece by piece, she remembered. Piece by piece, she reconstructed who she was and why she was there.

Observing the bustling castle staff and elegantly dressed nobility was not enough for her. She willed time itself to turn back, and it did, the sun slipping below the horizon and coming back again, the same as usual. A faint melody hung in the air, one that she could not name or sing but knew somewhere deep in her bones.

On the battlements, she saw Revali as a fledgling, visiting the castle for the first time. He bristled with pride but glanced around in poorly-disguised wonder, as if he were worried he would get caught being anything but cynical.

Wandering into the Sanctum, she saw Daruk and heard his booming laugh. He presented her father with a finely cut but massive diamond that would cement the political and economic alliance between Hyrule and Goron City.

In the Queen’s study, she saw Urbosa as a young woman, unarmed, enjoying tea and a lively conversation with Zelda’s mother. The bottle of voltfruit wine they were spiking their tea with was poorly concealed behind an arrangement of flowers.

At the castle gates, she saw Mipha arriving with a delegation of Zora warriors and diplomats, then pausing to speak to a familiar member of the Royal Guard. Link responded to her quiet but genuine greeting with perfect politeness. His uniform was impeccably pressed, his expression was impassive, and the Master Sword was an ever-present weight on his back.

Mipha had loved him. Why did he look like he was wearing a wooden mask?

Link was kneeling before her father in the dusky green tunic of a knight of Necluda. They were in the Sanctum, now, and standing behind and to the right of her father as she was, she could not see the look on the knight’s face. But she could guess what it would be.

The King intoned, “Rise, Sir Link of Hateno.”

Link’s parents stood behind him, as proud as they could be. Even his father, the Knight-Commander of East Necluda Company, could not fully keep the smile off of his face.

It was an unremarkable memory. Zelda had been present for countless knighting ceremonies, and Link had not become important until several months later.

But as Link rose, she had to stamp out an irrational surge of anger. Link’s expression had not changed in the slightest, not even a glimmer of pride or excitement in his eyes.

What was that mask? Why could she not wear it?

From one instant to the next, he wore his knight’s tunic, the Royal Guard’s uniform, the Champion’s tunic she had made for him. His face never changed. She waited for the mask to splinter and fall away, but it never did. Not when she was insulting him, not when she was trying to make him eat a frog, not when he was dying.

Bleeding out on the marshy ground, he looked like he wanted to say something, but then the light slipped out of his eyes. He left her nothing but the ruined Master Sword at his side and a bloody handprint on her arm.

All the while, Urbosa spoke to her with a strained voice, telling her that she would no longer be able to visit the castle as much as she had, leaving unsaid that it was because Zelda’s mother was gone. All the while, her father’s jovial expression shifted into something frustrated and subtly disappointed as he snapped at her to quit playing scholar.

She reached out to Link, desperate to learn how that mask never fell off his face, but Link was walking away from her, expression unreadable. He put the Master Sword back in its pedestal and walked into the Lost Woods. She waited for him as the cold, damp mists swirled around her ankles and crawled up her legs, but he never returned.

Something in the air turned the sunlight golden, and she didn’t know if it was pollen from the Korok Forest or dust disturbed by the castle’s maids. Time still scrolled backward, and as the sun dipped below the horizon yet again, the light turned blood red.

Feeling unbearably angry, Zelda released her grasp on the memories. The darkness waited for her, and although she did not welcome it with open arms, it was her only constant companion now.

Time moved forward again, inexorable, how it always had and how it always would.

 

//||\\\

 

There was no more screaming. No more tears. She was numb to the horrors of the Calamity, because she was the Calamity.

She was Princess Zelda of Hyrule.

She was darkness and hatred incarnate.

She was the only heir to a ruined kingdom.

_The Calamity._

_Zelda._

 

//||\\\

 

It was a seemingly unremarkable day, approximately ten months after Link had awoken. He had freed the Divine Beasts, freed the Champions’ spirits, and all throughout his quest had sought the memories Zelda had left for him.

She knew when he had remembered something, because his pain somehow found its way across the miles and miles separating them and broke the trance she was in, tearing her away from visions of a silent princess in a field. It reminded her of who she was. It made the line between the Calamity and her that much less blurry. She had counted the memories, and she knew this would be the last one. The most painful one to bear.

She knew it was unwise to seek him out and speak to him while she was holding the Calamity back. She _knew_ it. But she couldn’t stop herself when she felt the anguish coming from him.

Zelda tore through the darkness, and suddenly she was in Blatchery Plain, facing Fort Hateno.

Link was on his knees, in the very same spot where he had collapsed a century earlier. He sat very still. His head was bowed and she could not see the expression on his face. He was always in pain, she thought. He was in pain because he did not remember, and he was in pain because he remembered bits and pieces of an age gone by. And that was her fault. The guilt plagued her.

_Link,_ she said.

He shifted slightly, indicating he heard her, but continued to stare down at the ground.

Helpless, she continued to speak. She clenched her fists as she forced the words out. _Do…you remember? I tried to help you as best as I could. With the memories, I mean. Even so, I know that it is not enough. But just the thought of you alone – with no friends to guide you –_

Link’s shoulders twitched. Zelda swallowed against a sudden lump in her throat. What was that? Anger? A bitter laugh? A sob?

She was rambling. She knew it. She needed to get to the point. She’d torn away his memories by agreeing to place him in the Shrine of Resurrection, and now she was asking him to risk it all to save her.

_I am here…inside Hyrule Castle. I am alive because of your sacrifice. I know you may never forgive me, but – I tried. I tried to help you._ She thought of how he’d acted since his awakening, how brave he was in combat, how kind he was to children in towns. He didn’t need any of his memories to be the same good man he once was. _No matter what I did to you, your strength is your own. I believe that you are ready to destroy the Calamity._ Her voice almost broke from her intensity at the end. She was pleading with him, she knew.

Still he did not move.

_Link, if you believe nothing else I tell you, believe this: courage need not be remembered, for it is never forgotten._

To her surprise, Link looked up. He stood and turned so that he was facing the castle. Facing her. The look of steely resolve on his face, despite how red his eyes were from tears and exhaustion, gave her hope. The first true glimmer of hope she had felt in quite a while.

As she retreated to the castle to hold the Calamity at bay and await Link’s arrival, she realized that he had not been armed with the Master Sword. As the Calamity roared, she hoped that she had not somehow made a mistake in diverting her attention to speak to him.

Slowly but surely, her vague doubts and fears coalesced into a chilling thought: _was she wrong about Link being ready?_

 

//||\\\

 

When she came to, she was kneeling on rough stone, her hands clasped in prayer.

Zelda frowned. Why wasn’t she floating?

She opened her eyes, then blinked in shock. She was in the Sanctum, yes. But she could actually _see_ it. She could see the crumbling staircases, the moldering royal banners, and the red-orange light glaring through the windows above her.

Slowly, afraid she would wake up to find that this was another of the Calamity’s nightmares, she unlaced her fingers. Then she rose to her feet. She felt a draft tickle the hairs on her arms, and elation bubbled up into a laugh.

For the first time in a century, she felt a real breeze. She was _free._

The golden glow of the Goddess still radiated from her skin, but she was undoubtedly back in the physical world again. The sensation was so foreign and thrilling that she almost didn’t feel the dark weight pressing her chest, just above her heart.

When she stopped twirling on the ruined floor of the Sanctum, she frowned uneasily at the weight. It was part of her; she could no more get rid of it than she could her own lungs. But it did not _belong_ to her. Something had cut out a piece of her and replaced it with something else.

What…what had happened? Had Link already defeated the Calamity? Was that why she had returned to the physical world?

She realized that she could still feel his presence. He was charging across Hyrule Field on his horse, heading straight for the front gates of the castle. She could still see embers of malice rising from every surface around her.

So the Calamity still existed. What was different? She could now physically move. And she could not feel the Calamity’s presence.

Zelda glanced around her, panic starting to claw its way up her throat. Where was it? She turned around wildly and stumbled to the Sanctum’s entrance, halting to take in the tableau of the ruined castle below her. She almost screamed in terror and frustration as she saw a tiny figure riding towards the front gates of the castle.

_Where was Calamity Ganon?_

Then Zelda caught sight of her bare arm. She glanced down at it, and for the first time in a long time, she let out a scream.


End file.
